Dagur's Revenge (Revamped)
by BlueberryToasterTart
Summary: Hiccup was in love with that girl, Astrid, and to better destroy him, Dagur had to be love with her, or rather, a new obsession bloomed, a new incentive with which to cut Hiccup, and his dragon, and Berk, to bits of bloodied bone.
1. Chapter 1

Alright, so if you didn't know I had already written about six or seven chapters of this "Dagur's Revenge" story, however I was unhappy with it and decided to scrap it and start over. It's basically the same story but with more meat on its bones.

I will eventually take the other down, probably this week sometime.

A side note - this chapter makes use of the M rating.

X

Chapter 1: Feed the Flames

Fire tore through wooden homes. It melted steel, silenced agonized cries, and the entire island was blazing in heat of victory. Dagur the Deranged had lead his armada across the seas, crisscrossing storms, seeking out one devastating win after another. These sad, isolated, pathetic little island villages never stood a chance. Then again, few ever did.

They had stumbled upon this particular little island by mistake on their way to a much larger port town. In truth, Dagur never wanted to seek out the tiny towns but when they fell into his view his need of destruction grew unbearable. That port town could wait. His attention was needed elsewhere. This little town could use a little…bang.

They hadn't seen it coming. Through the darkness of night the Berserker army launched flaming catapults, bombarding the village with flame and rock. Houses were crushed and screams erupted as the fire raged through dry grass and field. The sight from his ship was beautiful. The bright yellow blocked out the stars and became its own sun, making its own black and gray clouds, like a smaller world. A world that he, Dagur, had created. And in his world he was a god.

He was a god. He decided who lived and who died. Most died, but that is because they trembled so pathetically it would have been a sin to spare their meaningless lives. Drivel, the majority of them. A waste of time and space in Dagur the God's world. That is why he would cleanse it. He would make it anew with him as their deity. Offerings of gold, steel, and blood were preferred.

What _was _it about a scream that he adored so? The high-pitched crack in the voice? The humanity? The unadulterated suffering? The blunt trauma? The raw emotional outburst? The sound that accompanied the fire was a chorus that soothed his soul like nothing else could. It seeped into the hole in his chest and filled it for a moment, but as the screams were extinguished and the flames petered out, the hole returned.

The flames were the precursor. As the town was engulfed and its citizens became aware, rushing to meet the enemy at their shores, little weapons in hands, war cries sounding, the Berserkers attacked. His armada outnumbered them easily, twenty to one. The farmers and fishermen were cut down at the shore. Blood seeped into the shallow waters and was pushed and pulled outward. It left the shores a haunted bloodbath.

This time Dagur had advised his men to not take captives. He didn't want the bothersome task of keeping them. What was the point of keeping one of them? A pet? It was just another mouth to whine, to eat his food, and demand refuge. It was better just to rid himself of them before he had them. But, he'd told them, leave a few alive to spread the fear. The Berserker tribe would again be as powerful and terrible as they once had.

"No!" cried a shrill female voice. The sound of it made Dagur cringe. He glared off to the side were one of his Berserkers had kicked in a door to one of the few remaining homes. Several people had been crouching inside, huddled together, trying to avoid the battle.

Dagur mused, it wasn't a _battle_. It was a _massacre_. These pitiful people were no warriors. Casually, Dagur made his way to the house's open front door where his Berserkers were manhandling the cowards outside and ransacking the shack. He sighed, he had taught them well.

"Spare us, please!" cried the shrill woman. She was clutching a young boy, five or six, in her arms. A girl, maybe sixteen, was glaring over the woman's shoulder at him. Her eyes were blazing like fire, hot with hatred and disgust, fists clenched in her lap.

His Berserker raised his mace, ready for the bloody execution, but Dagur held up his hand. The mace was paused mid-air and Dagur laughed aloud at the spark of hope that appeared on the woman's face. She didn't speak but watched. Dagur walked passed his Berserker and yanked the girl up by the arm and tossed her carelessly to the floor.

"No!" the woman pleaded. Holding the boy close, pressing his innocent face into her shoulder.

Dagur laughed. Such a sudden change of heart? People were such fickle, helpless, useless things. He pulled his own sword from his belt, lavished it expertly, and sneered. "You would rather you all die?"

The woman fell silent. She let out a sob and clutched the boy to her chest, shielding his eyes and ears with her own body. She buried her own face in his hair. Dagur laughed as he turned back to the girl. She had maneuvered herself and was poised to stand, to run, to do something. Her arm flinched forward, in a pathetic attempt at defense, and Dagur grabbed it from the air and twisted it. She fell back with a painful yelp.

What was it about screams that made him feel so alive? These people were pawns and he was their king. He was their master, controller, god. The girl screamed when he held her down. Her mother, if that is what she was, sobbed, hiding her own eyes. Amid the screams he was livid, on fire, his skin crawled with dominating desire. The girl screamed, and it only turned him on more, and with each thrust of his hips she convulsed, her yelps and pleas shuttered.

When he was finished he left the girl crying on the floor. Screams, he adored. Tears, he hated. He wiped himself off on the edge of her torn skirt and reached again for the sword at his side. The girl writhed at the sight and tried to flea on her back. Dagur kicked her, feeling the indenting of ribs against his foot, and she became still. Tears poured from her hateful eyes. She curled around herself, holding her stomach in with shaking arms.

Dagur poised the blade and with one fluid motion he put a silent end to those abysmal tears. The shrill woman sobbed harder, her hands shaking in the boy's hair, her eyes shut tight.

Dagur left the shack as his Berserkers departed with anything of value or use. Outside the village was gradually burning to the ground. The screams were fewer but the fire was still bright as a sun. And Dagur stood in the middle of it. As the village was burned, booty pillaged, and survivors of the horror left to pass on the tale, Dagur returned to his ships with his Berserkers in line. Tonight, they would celebrate. Among the booty were several wine casks, a delicacy on these waters.

And Dagur was right. They did celebrate. That night the ships were alight with shouting, whistling, dancing, and singing. Even conquers and gods enjoy the loosening of a party. Dagur didn't join them, however. He sat back and watched their foolishness unfold with every drink.

He enjoyed pillaging. He enjoyed burning things down. He enjoyed the victory. But as soon as it was within his grasp it seeped through his fingers. The feeling never lasted. As the fire died down his chest became hollow once more.

It had nothing to do with guilt. Dagur the Deranged had nothing to be guilty over and he scoffed at the very idea. He had no shame or fear. No, this hole had been created by another.

_Hiccup. Berk. _

Dagur had been fingering a decorated knife and at the thought of that skinny little pain, he growled, and thrust the blade into the arm of his throne. He'd taken it from some ridiculously ornate island temple. He got _so_ _tired_ of standing all the time. The blade hadn't sunk very deep. The dagger wasn't made for battle and the chair was made to last centuries. The chair had sustained a mere scratch and the blade had snapped in half.

"Is something wrong, Dagur the Deranged?" asked Gran, a pirate he'd found several years ago and kept around. Why, he wasn't sure. He wasn't as dumb as most of his men, but his bloodlust and vicious temper had proven not-useless. Gran's problem was his laziness. If he would have had Dagur's determination, ambition, among other things, he would have been a worthy rival. But Gran was made to follow, not lead, and Dagur was just fine with that.

"It's been four years." Dagur said, whispering it to the broken blade, as if it were a delicate lover. "Four years. Four fucking years since that…humiliating defeat at the hands of a…_hiccup_."

Gran made a sound, like a vocal accompaniment to a nod, but said nothing. Everyone had heard the story of Dagur's solitary defeat at the hand of the Hooligan tribe's heir, on his trained Night Fury, and Dagur's exceptional disgruntled grudge. They rumored that he'd kept a empty place above his bed where he would hang the dragon's head.

"And now I've got this hole that only Hiccup can fill." Dagur said, starry eyed, white knuckles on his broken dagger's blade.

Gran, like most Berserkers, had learned not to say anything.

"But, time has changed me. I am smarter, more clever, sharper, patient." Dagur motioned to each finger as he listed. "All my victories have cleared my head. I know what I must do."

Dagur let the broken blade fall to the deck's floor with a clank. He stood up and looked over the merriment. He folded his hands behind his back and for the moment could have been mistaken for a reverent leader.

"I don't want to just kill Hiccup, oh on, I want him to suffer." Dagur's voice darkened with icy hate and intention. "I have watched people as they die. I've learned their ways, their thoughts. And I know that to truly _destroy _a man, I must strike, not him, but around him. I first have to completely obliterate everything around him, his home, his family, his friends, his livelihood, so that he has nothing else in this world to live for. And then, at the peak of misery, I will win."

Gran listened and held his tongue. He had never met this Hiccup or the Hooligan tribe. It had been outside of his normal piracy territory. But if he could get under Dagur the Deranged's skin as much as he had then he must be something truly awful, barbaric, and horrendous.

"And time has given me a plan." Dagur smiled into the night. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through his wide mouth. He turned to Gran with that devilish grin. "Tell me, how are your survival skills?"

Whatever this demon of a man was planning, Gran wasn't thrilled. But he'd discovered, through observation, that lying to Dagur was synonymous to treason. "Decent, sir. I was once shipwrecked a month on Meathead's land. Left fatter and they never knew I was there."

Dagur's grinned widened, if that was possible, and Gran felt a horrible experience in his future.

X

Writing Dagur is so much fun! Even just with this first chapter I already like this revamped version better than the other. And, yes, for clarity's sake, rape and murder did totally happen in this chapter.

If you read the other version, or even if you didn't, leave a review and tell me what you think. I mean, I could finish the other one but it wouldn't be good.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay - I'm recovering from the flu and I really wanted to get this update out today. It's taken me most of the day to get what I've got, working through a bit of delirium, so forgive the likely grammar mistakes.

So, onward!

X

Chapter 2

Many on Berk had taken a break from their daily activities to watch the dragon race in progress. Heads leaned out of windows and from beneath stall as the five dragons shook the air above the village. Stoick had ducked out of Gobber's blacksmith stall as Snotlout and Fishlegs fought over the targeted sheep, back and forth, until it was dropped, amid a air-blown wind of curses.

"Watch it!" Gobber called out as the sheep tumbled toward the village's heart, Vikings ducking out of it's way, several dragons racing heedlessly after it.

It was caught inches from the ground by Toothless, a speeding black blur, trailed closely by Stormfly. Blue and black streaked over the housetops, a surge of green followed behind, with the recovered Hookfang and Meatlug closing the distance.

It didn't take long for much of the village to rush to the racing stands to watch the remainder of the impromptu game. Stoick climbed the stairs to his chiefly throne as a lap was made, the sheep being thrown into Hiccup's basket.

Stoick half-laughed as the dragons vanished out of sight, in search of the next sheep, and leaned back in his chair. The crowd's cheers died down and rose again as the dragons came into view. The sound was deafening with each score.

"It's a close one!" Gobber said as he counted point. "Hiccup's leading with four, Astrid's right behind with three, and the twins, Snotlout, and Fishlegs all have one."

Stoick laughed, "Come on, Hiccup."

They all had claimed a victory since the races began. Hiccup and Astrid held the most, followed by Snotlout, the twins, and finally Fishlegs. Hiccup and Astrid traded the lead back and forth, it seemed with every race, in a heating competition that was as much fun to watch as it was to root for.

The dragons dashed back toward the goals, sheep clutched selfishly, thrown at high speed into Astrid's basket. The crowd threw arms into the air with their throat-sore cheers as the dragons darted back out of sight again.

"And Hiccup and Astrid are tied." Gobber said with a knowing nod toward Stoick.

"Hm," Stoick returned the nod. He leaned forward, ready with the rest of the crowd, for the coming thunder.

Vikings were on the edge of their seats, most standing, waiting. The competition that rivaled between Hiccup and Astrid was ripe with fire. As the dragons came around all eyes went to the blue and black blurs with held breaths. A flash of red took advantage of their mid-air argument and gripped the sheep. The cheers were not as vibrant, although still were furiously loud, as the sheep clattered into Snotlout's basket.

Gobber laughed. He was sure that Stoick saw the glare pass between Hiccup and Astrid. If not he didn't want to be the only to point it out to him. "Hiccup and Astrid are tied with four, Snotlout with two, and the twins and Fighlegs with one."

X

Hiccup tucked low as Toothless took a dive toward the sheep. It tried to dodge but the other sheep refused to let it hid. Toothless was within a leg's reach but Stormfly swooped and beat them to it. In a blur of blue and yellow the sheep was gone. Astrid's war cry sounded briefly as they curved around the lap pole and toward the score baskets. She was flying recklessly, going too fast around the turn, almost too tight for Stormfly, with Astrid handing low onto the saddle as to not be thrown off.

Hiccup didn't waste but a half-moment before he was racing off to close the gap between him and Stormfly. He knew why Astrid was playing dangerous today. She'd lost the previous race and she was determined not to lose twice in a row. She hated losing, especially at something she considered herself good at.

They came dangerously close to a rooftop, Stormfly's claws barely above the shingles, the sheep clutched under Astrid's arm. She didn't look at the riders chasing after her, her sheep, but kept her eyes on the prize. Hiccup joined with the others but as the nearest the baskets he had gained on Stormfly. He could take the sheep, score, and take the lead, but as he saw the moment come he let it go.

Astrid threw the sheep down and it landed in her basket with s soft thump. He caught her gaze as she glanced over her shoulder.

The race went on, lap after lap, sheep after sheep, and Hiccup and Astrid traded first place back and forth. Astrid was playing rough, a little dirty, and more than once had angled Stormfly so that the wind from her wings was thrust back onto the dragon trailing her.

"She really doesn't want to lose, Bud." Hiccup patted Toothless as Stormfly's wing wind had knocked their speed down. Toothless grumbled. He looked lack at Hiccup and reflected his desire to snatch up that win for themselves. He considered himself to be good at dragon racing, too.

Hiccup had five and Astrid had four when the black sheep was announced. Toothless had the advantage of space and speed and Hiccup easily grabbed it out of the air, swinging dangerously to the side to miss a desperate lung by Snotlout and Hookfang, and Hiccup clung tight to the saddle and the barrel rolled.

Stormfly and Astrid were quick on their tail. She closed the distance by cutting corners too sharply, angling almost vertically, her eyes narrowed in determination. They fought in the air, neck in neck, the other dragons fighting for the win, the mid-air dramatic act that the entire village held their breaths for.

The finish line was in sight as Fishlegs knocked into Toothless from the side and the sheep fell from his grip. Its eyes went wide as it realized nothing was holding it, keeping it from falling, and nothing was between it was the ocean sparking way below. Hiccup had time to fetch it back but he hesitated and Astrid snatched it.

He was close on her tail, along with Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins, as they swung over the finish line as the black sheep landed in Astrid's basket. The crowd dropped their held breaths and exploded into massive cheers as Astrid made a victory lap over the stands, waving to her many fans, soaking in the exalted win.

Hiccup made the final lap with the other riders to ease the leftover energy from the race. Astrid flew in to glide beside him, a less than happy look on her face, and not at all what he'd expected.

"Congratulations!" Hiccup said.

"Hiccup!"

"What?"

"You let me win!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hiccup shrugged. But Astrid's grimace did not diminish. He could feel her fiery temper searing down his back like claws on his shoulders.

"Hiccup, it's not a fair win if you let me have it." Astrid glared. "It's like you don't think I can win on my own."

"Of course I think you can win on your own, you do it all the time." Hiccup shrugged.

"Then why didn't you win when you could have?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Astrid." Hiccup repeated, with a little more tone than he intended. "You won, fair and square."

"Stop it, Hiccup." Astrid said flatly.

"Stop what?"

"Doing that…protective thing. It's annoying. I can take care of myself." Astrid shook her head and urged Stormfly up and away from the others. She was in the air and gone before Hiccup would respond.

Hiccup watched her vanish to the other side of Berk.

X

Astrid took Stormfly to the western forest, her favorite cooling-down spot, and wasted no time in sinking her axe's sharpened blade into the nearest tree. She yanked it out and tossed it again, harder, the effort of her arm and shoulder pushing of a gusty exhale. The wood sliced and the bark cracked. Astrid wrenched the axe from the tree, savoring that splintering thud that followed, and sinking deep into another with a satisfying crunch.

She was tired of Hiccup babying her. He didn't used to. But ever since things got…more serious between them, he's been acting different. He's been overprotective and overbearing. It's smothering and annoying. One of the things that she liked about Hiccup was that he wasn't needy. He didn't constantly shower her in nonsensical compliments.

And he'd let her win. Like…like it had been some kind of compliment, or a romantic endeavor. Like he had done it _for_ _her_. She wanted to win because he had earned it, not because it had been handed to her. Astrid Hofferson wasn't a loser. She didn't lose. But she didn't take hand-outs either. That was worse than losing. And Hiccup acted like it was his win to give.

She threw her axe into another tree with more force than before. She felt it wrench in her shoulder and stretch down her arm. She felt a sting through her muscles as the axe sunk deep. She put her hand onto her shoulder. It would be sore before sundown. She prodded her shoulder as she walked to fetch the axe. She ignored the sensation and threw it again, and again, and again.

She was focusing on the make-believe battle and slowly her angry subsided. She didn't notice the passing of time that folded the afternoon into evening. Stormfly's nap was cut short. She perked up and chirped at the sky with a friendly posture. Astrid had just released the handle, the axe sunk into the wood, as a black spec flapped closer.

She was conflicted between two feelings, the internal warmth of seeing Hiccup, and the previous anger at him. He retrieved the axe as Toothless landed with a soft thump. Hiccup sat up in the saddle, green eyes on her, mouth open to speak.

"What?" Astrid cut him off.

Hiccup's face dropped. "You've been gone a while. I was-"

"You were checking up on me."

"Yes, I was. Is there something wrong with that?" Hiccup asked.

"I don't need you checking up on me." Astrid stomped.

"What's wrong?" Hiccup asked.

"Nothing is wrong." Astrid said.

"Then why are you mad?" Hiccup asked.

"I'm not mad." Astrid spat.

Hiccup scoffed.

"What?" Astrid shrugged.

"I don't know why you're mad!"

"I'm not mad!"

"You're yelling!"

"Because you're yelling!"

"Because you're infuriating!"

Astrid groaned. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I was worried when you missed dinner!"

"I don't need you to worry about me!" Astrid stomped, swinging the axe into a close by tree, adding another deep gash to the dozens already there.

"Fine, I'll go." Hiccup threw his arms into the air. "Next time I'll try to be more thoughtless."

"I'll appreciate it."

Hiccup nudged Toothless and they were off in a rush of black and brown hair. Quicker than they'd appeared they vanished into the clouds. Astrid grunted as she pulled on the handle, a pain in her shoulder groaning, a stiff sting whining as the axe came loose. Stormfly chirped.

"What?" Astrid asked, less sharply than with Hiccup.

Stormfly cocked her head.

"I don't know why he's been so…clingy lately." Astrid came over to give the dragon a reassuring pat. "I don't know what to do about it."

Stormfly jittered, nudging Astrid's torso, and Astrid realized the low grumbled in her stomach. She hadn't realized the hunger. She fastened the axe back onto the saddle and climbed up after it. Hopefully there would be something warm left to eat.

X

That night when Hiccup returned home his father was settled in his chair by the fire with the evening cup of mead resting of the arm. Toothless slunk up the stairs to curl into sleep. He warbled a goodnight as he vanished to the second floor. Usually after a racing day Hiccup felt soundly, exhausted from the extra exertion, but there was a twisted nerve in his chest that he figured would keep him awake.

"Anything wrong, Son?" Stoick asked passively as Hiccup shut the door.

Hiccup sighed and slumped into the chair across from his father. "Astrid's mad at me and I don't know why."

"Have you tried apologizing?"

"I tried. And then we ended up yelling at each other." Hiccup groaned. "I don't know what happened. I wasn't mad when I got there but when I left I wanted to punch something."

"Aye, sounds like a woman to me." Stoick nodded.

"What do I do?"

Stoick sighed, took a drink from the mug, and set it back down before answering. "Women can be sweet as sugar and wicked as a devil. Hardly a man alive that hasn't been tangled in a woman's web."

"So…what do I do about it?" Hiccup raised a brow. Was that supposed to be advise?

"I wish I knew what to tell you, Son." Stoick shook his head.

Hiccup groaned and ran his hand through his hair.

X


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so sorry about the prolonged wait! With the holidays, family, and whatnot, I've been either busy or so exhausted that I have been writing. But I'm getting back on track - don't worry. And thanks again for the support - it means a lot to me that you're enjoy this story.

This chapter ended up being a bit longer than I originally foresaw, but instead of cutting into two smaller chapter I thought that since it's been so long since the last update a nice longer make-up chapter was preferable.

Enjoy!

X

Chapter 3

He'd been dreaming, maybe, but his sleep was abruptly interrupted by a sudden force to his chest, sending him sprawling to the floor of his bedroom with his blanket trying to straggle him.

"Hiccup."

"What?" Hiccup said as he fought against the blanket. He found an opening and shoved his hand through it, finally freeing himself of it's warm and darkness. He was sitting on the floor beside his bed and Astrid was standing, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, on the other side. He repeated, "What?"

"Race me." Astrid demanded. "Right now. Just you and me. No cheating, no nothing."

Hiccup untangled himself from the blanket and stood up. She was serious, no doubt on her face, and he knew he couldn't turn her down. He'd sort of made his hole himself and now he had to climb back out.

"Okay." Hiccup agreed.

It was barely dawn and light on Berk was dim. The sheep were still fumbling out of sleep but at the first two of their number vanished in a swooshing of dragon claws, that stupor was rudely thrown aside. A few early Vikings pointed toward the sky at the two speeding dragons, but the duo of a Night Fury and Deadly Nadder, rather than the full excitement of five dragons, wasn't enough to shake some Vikings from their beds.

Hiccup did as he was told. He tried to win, fairly and squarely, as if it weren't Astrid he was competing against, but Snotlout or the twins, who he had no problem in squishing. He gave the race his all, which is why when the last sheep was thrown into his basket, by him, and the total score had him ahead by three points, he was proud. That feeling swelled and then burst as he landed on the other side of the scoring basket and Astrid landed not far away.

"It's not a bad way to wake up, right Bud?" Hiccup said to Toothless, giving him a scratch on the head. He responded with a happy warble. He then turned his attention to Astrid, "Right, Astrid?"

"Whatever." Her tone was less than enthused.

"Oh come on, Astrid, don't be like that." Hiccup said, some of his previous infuriation reigniting. "It's just a game."

"That's what the winner says."

"Yes, I won." Hiccup said. Astrid rolled her eyes and his grip on the saddle's handlebars tightened. "And you've won plenty of time. It's just a game, Astrid. It doesn't matter who wins."

"Of course it matters." Astrid said, butting in at the end of his words, like it was the most important thing he forgot to mention.

"Why is everything competition with you?" Hiccup spat, knowing exactly what she was thinking. "Can't you just have fun without keeping score? And not be like this when you lose?"

"Be like what?" Astrid spat back, eyes on fire.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Enlightening me. What am I like, Hiccup?"

Hiccup swallowed. He thought about keeping his mouth shut, ignoring her provocation, and letting it rest, but for some unknown reason his brain decided to speak.

"I don't know what you want from me, Astrid. You're mad when I let you win and you're mad when I don't. You're mad because you lost? I don't know. You're acting like I cheating or something, stole the wind away from you, like it's rightfully yours and how dare anyone else be better at something that you. I don't know what you want!"

Her brow furrowed over a narrow glare, hands clutched into tight fists, her lips twisted in to a nasty snare. She mumbled something that sounded dangerously close to, "Just a fucking game," but she and Stormfly were off and in the air faster than Hiccup could ask.

He groaned, loudly, and thrust a fist in to the air. Toothless warbled, questionably, and looked sideways up at him.

"I don't know, Bud." Hiccup said, defeated, "I don't understand her sometimes. Maybe she just needs time to cool off."

Hiccup was about to give Toothless the signal to fly, start their morning flight a little early, when a series of shouts brought Berk to alertness. Hiccup took off toward the blowing horn and arrived just a few moments before his father.

"What is it?" Stoick demanded. Like many Vikings, Stoick did not like being prematurely woken.

A sentry had returned to Berk in a fluster, dismounted his dragon in a hurry to blow the horn, and was looking restlessly at Stoick. "A boat, Chief. Out in the water. It's a Berserker by the sail. Looks in bad shape, like it's been through the worst storm it could handle without being torn apart."

Stoick turned toward the seas at this news, scanning the horizon, war cry ready on his lips. Hiccup reached into the saddle bags, now he was glad he'd kept them on, and withdrew his spyglass. It was one of the few thing he didn't want to leave Berk without. He looked through it and scanned the waters until he found the ship the sentry had fretted over.

The sail was torn in several places and looked as though it had been on fire. The entire hull was scarred with scorch marks. Hiccup handled the spyglass to his father, who studied the scene for a moment before giving it back. By this time many of the village gathered, wary at the spreading rumors of Berserkers.

"Where are those damn Berserkers?" Snotlout said loudly, boasting his chest outward and flexing his arms. "I'll show them who's boss around here."

The twins weren't far behind him, and as Ruffnut whispered something to her brother, Snotlout turned quickly and aimed a swift punch at Tuffnut. He fell to the ground as Ruffnut laughed. Snotlout straightened himself back up, retaking his warrior stance, but Ruffnut wasn't paying attention. She was poking her downed brother with her foot.

"We'll go check it out, Dad." Hiccup suggested, already riding Toothless, and he could see Hookfang and Barf and Belch within a short walk's distance.

"It's probably a trap." Stoick shook his head.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful." Hiccup said.

Stoick sighed heavily, but nodded. "Don't engage them unless you have to."

"Right." Hiccup nodded as Toothless set off into the air.

Within a few moments the twins, Snotlout, and Fishlegs were behind him, the lone ship in their sights. Hiccup noted the absence of Astrid, but knew that she was probably still mad. He shook that thought from his mind as the ship drifted underneath them.

"There's no one on board." Tuffnut announced, obviously.

"I'm going in for a closer look." Hiccup said as Toothless began to circle the ship, lowering with ever lap, eyes on the lookout for anything trap-like or suspicious.

The ship looked like it had been through war. A few barrels were upturn, blackened and charred, the hull and deck had both blood and soot, black and red staining in horrible uneven patterns. Behind the chipped and ashy mast was a rotting blanket, covering something that to Hiccup looked horribly humanoid.

"Fishlegs!" Hiccup called. He motioned him down.

Meatlug hovered in closer to the lump, her feet gripped it, and gradually pulled it away. Hiccup caught his gasp in his throat. A man was huddled underneath it, maybe alive, both burned and scarred and wounded. Hiccup signaled to the others and together they pushed the ship toward Berk with speed that no ship would master on its own.

Vikings were waiting on the docks, axes and maces at the ready, but Stoick was holding them back.

"There's a man on board." Hiccup called to his father as the ship bumped into the docks.

Gobber was among the few first on the ship. He poked the man a few time with his clubbed hand. He raised his head back toward Stoick and called, "He's alive!"

It didn't take many to carry the unconscious man up to the village. Stoick was as eager as the rest to hear his story, especially if it contained Berserkers. They hadn't seen or heard of Dagur or his army for nearly three years. They'd heard rumors through the traders, of wicked deeds and conquered peoples, but rumor was as far as they knew.

Gothi made quick work of the man and soon his eyes were fluttering open and graciously accepted cool drinks of water and bits of bread. Stoick, Hiccup, and Gobber came to the man's bedside and as Gothi departed, the man's countenance fell.

"Thank you." he said, but Stoick interrupted him.

"Why were you on a Berserker ship?" Stoick demanded.

"Are you working with them?" Gobber added. "Because we make short work of Berserkers on Berk."

Stoick turned his head to slide a glare toward Gobber, who understood, cleared his throat, and leaned back.

"What's your story, then?" Stoick said to the man.

He sat up as best he could, sighed, and began to speak. "My name is Gran. About a year ago my village was seized by the Berserkers. I've been in captivity since them, a prisoner of war, Dagur the Deranged called prisoners trophies. I couldn't live like…a animal. I saw my chance to escape and I took it."

"What happened?" Gobber asked, forgetting the previous unspoken order to not interrupt.

"There was some kind of attack happening. The Berserkers had found a village, but a storm was blowing, and everything was in chaos. I found a ship that had been abandoned because it was on fire, but the rain put it out, and I took refuge on it. I would rather be at the mercy of the waters than Dagur. At least the water wouldn't kill me out of pure madness."

"What village are you from?" Stoick asked.

"My village is long gone. Burned to the ground by the Berserkers. But before that it wasn't much to look at. A small fishing village on the shores, Tree Mountain. There was a mountain, and it had a lot of trees on it. I always thought it name was stupid." Gran said while staring at the ceiling.

"Gran," Stoick said with a hint of sympathy, "We have been hearing rumors of a growing Berserker army, is any of that true?"

Gran closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, it is. The night that I escape was during one of his raids on some nameless little village that deserved nothing of the horror and death he gave them. As the storm carried me away I saw what had become of it. Not a house was left from the flames, it burned, like my own, a fire-tower to Asgard, screams of it's innocent echoing from the smoke. It was a horrible sight, haunting."

Stoick didn't speak immediately. Hiccup swallowed, he knew that Dagur was mad, and capable of horrible things, but to actually hear of what he'd done was unsettling. It felt him with an untamable sense of panic, of a need to reinforce Berk's own defenses, to run out there to stop Dagur from ruining any more homes and villages. Gobber looked as distraught as he felt, he scratched his head with his mace hand, looking absent-mindedly into the foot of the bed.

Gran was left to recover, with a guard at his door, just in case, and Stoick tried his best to keep the rumors of a rising Berserker army down. But Vikings loved to talk, and they loved to talk about war, which neither helped those rumor's die. By the end of the day stories of how to prepare Berk spread like wildfire, supposedly and sometime ludicrous plans of offense, ideas of new defense, and even one idea thrown in by the twins that they should dig a cave out of the mountains and pretend that no one was home.

"Dagur would just go away." Tuffnut said, as if this was his most brilliant plan.

"What do you think it means?" Hiccup asked his father that night, as the village, for the most part, pretended to retire.

"I don't know." Stoick said, eyes on the hearth fire. "Dagur has had three years to better himself and his army. I'd like to say that it means he has more ships. But Dagur isn't like most men. He's as wily as his armada is big. There is no telling. Best for now to be prepared for anything."

"We've beaten him before, on multiple occasions. He knows better than to just come stomping onto Berk." Hiccup said.

"Aye, he knows that the old-fashioned way of fighting isn't going to work on Berk. He's got to think of anything way. And that, Hiccup, is what makes me worried. Vikings are used to the face to face battles, where it's kill of be killed, axe to mace."

Hiccup sighed. He knew his father was right. When it came to dirty fighting, Vikings were at a loss. They wanted enemies they could see. They wanted bones they could feel crushing. They wanted to know exactly what they were up against. And with Dagur, there really was no telling.

"I'm going to bed. No sense in worrying about something that hasn't happened." Stoick sighed, and heaved himself away from the hearth.

Hiccup climbed the stairs to his room, one by one, and sat on the edge of his bed. Toothless had gone ahead of his and lay curled on the other side of the room, nose tucked under his tail, even breathing a sign of deep, dreamless sleep. Lucky him, Hiccup thought as he laid back against the pillow. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and stared at the ceiling above. He wasn't even tired, far from it, with all the day's events.

X

Gran had fallen asleep, several times, but had always woken up no more than ten minutes later. He's slept for Thor knows how long on that blasted ship. Sleeping was the last thing he wanted to do right now. But, damn it all, he couldn't even leave this tiny forsaken house without that guard outside knowing about it.

Finally, he'd had enough. The entire village was in bed and guard outside was dosing off. Gran waiting until he was slumped against the house, snoring, to sneak to the shut window on the other side. He climbed up to it easily and slipped out into the darkness of Berk.

He wasn't really hurt. He was more sore than anything else, and a bit weathered from the ride here, maybe a little sunburned. Sneaking through Berk wasn't as difficult as he'd anticipated. Dragons slept like rocks, kicking their feet and waging tails, like pitiful house-pets. It was a shame, Gran thought as he passed yet another dragon stable built onto a house's side, that these magnificent beasts be reduced to such tame states. They were made for fire, destruction, and war, and here they were, napping.

It didn't take long to reach the rendezvous point at the secluded beach. Dagur had told him exactly how to get there from the village, strange how he knew it so well, and expected him there after dark. He slipped down and his feet hadn't met the sand before he saw the small ship pulled ashore, it's minimal crew meandering about. Dagur was staring out at the water behind him, arms crossed and face unreadable.

Gran wouldn't admit, but he liked Dagur. He wasn't the run of the mill ruler who wanted the best of his people, and peace, and whatever else was popular these days. He did was a ruler should, which was expand his empire. He wanted the world and would accept nothing less. Ruthless, clever, and crazy, Dagur was what Gran thought the ideal ruler should be.

"Well?" Dagur demanded as Gran approached.

"The village is empty. They're all asleep." Gran shrugged.

Dagur laughed, a low rumble, dangerous as it was enticing. "Alright. Now the fun begins. Men, stay here and…do something. I don't care. Just stay here and out of the way. Just make sure that no one, NO ONE, sees you."

"Aye," came a un-uniform round of responses.

"If you get us caught, and Berk doesn't kill you, I will." Dagur said, eyeing his crew one by one.

"Aye," came a similar round of tired answers. One man laid down and prepared for a nap.

Dagur left his crew behind and began to trek to the village above. Gran staggered behind him, unsure of what he wanted, when Dagur snapped back at him.

"Well, come on, if someone noticed you're gone the entire plan is ruined!" Dagur gritted his teeth.

Gran nodded and followed him back to the village.

X

Through Gran's distraction, Dagur had been able to sneak undetected onto Berk's hidden shore. While Gran meandered back to wherever they'd stashed him, Dagur took this opportunity to wander Berk freely. He crept through the village's center, aiming at Hiccup's house near the Great Hall, when something black caught his eye.

It was the Night Fury. Dagur paused to take in the scene, lucky to be far enough away that the dragon gave no notice, stalking in the shadows. Hiccup was standing beside him, hand on his snout, staying something Dagur couldn't hear. They were standing behind the blacksmith stalls which were darkened for the night. The Night Fury curled up as Hiccup went inside.

Dagur was debating whether to follow Hiccup or not when someone else took action. He recognized her, the girl, as she walked up to the smithy's darkness. She looked as determined as Dagur felt. With the dragon snoozing, Dagur chanced getting closer. The village was full of shadows to crawl through.

"…I don't like being mad at you."

Dagur heard as he approached the smithy. It was still dark, save for a candle that burned from within.

"I'd apologize but I don't know what for. I don't know what you want from me." Hiccup was saying. "It's not nothing I do it good enough."

"That's not it." the girl said, barely a whisper.

"Then tell me, Astrid, what's wrong?"

Astrid. That was her name. Dagur should have known that.

"It's…ever since, _this_, it's like every time I turn around there you are. You're being clingy, and every time I see you it's like you've got some stupid compliment wait. I don't need you constantly there, Hiccup. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to be a boyfriend. It's not like I've got instructions."

"Well stop. You were doing just fine before this whole _official_ nonsense." Astrid sighed. "You don't have to try and be anything else. I love you just the way you are."

"Thank you, Astrid. And, I'm sorry. I'll try to stop trying."

Astrid laughed, and after that words were nonexistent. The wet sucking sound of lips replaced them, and his curiosity won out. Dagur slowly peeked out from the shadows and into the smithy's singular light. Astrid has a tight grip on the front of his shirt, holding close, while Hiccup's arms have snaked around her. She tugs on his hair. His hand roams her side and back. Their tongues battle it out without a clear victory.

She broke apart, and wiggled her way from his arms, and pulls on his hand with other of hers toward a small closet of a space. Hiccup half-laughed, and mumbled something that Dagur couldn't understand.

"Oh, come on, Hiccup, everyone is asleep. No one will know." Astrid was saying with a sly grin on her face.

Hiccup smiles, gives in, and lets her pull him into the little space. He grabbed the candle, taking it with them, and the space outside was again filled with darkness as a door closed swiftly and softly behind them.

Intrigued, Dagur drifted closer to the door. He rests an ear against it as fabric swished against fabric, clothing thumped on the floor, skin rushed against skin, and hushed erotic moans filled the silence.

"…Astrid," Hiccup's voice came in breathless gasps, panting her name, like some unreachable goddess. Her own sounds came equally breathless, mumbling his name as he had hers, between his own husky grunts.

"…harder," Astrid instructed, and before the word had completely left her mouth she cried out, "Hiccup!"

They must have been against something wooden, for it thudded into the wooden walls of the stalls with every thrust, its rhythm mimicking theirs. Dagur listened, intently, to the sound of their premarital lovemaking, something greater than intrigue welling in his chest. Hiccup was in love with that girl, Astrid, and to better destroy him, Dagur had to be love with her, or rather, a new obsession bloomed, a new incentive with which to cut Hiccup, and his dragon, and Berk, to bits of bloodied bone.

X

Dun dun DUN! See? Chopping this chapter into two would have been like tearing a warm cookie in half.


	4. Chapter 4

I'm really sorry that this is late, I generally try to update stories within a weekly schedule, but life got in the way and this one is late.

A review suggested that Dagur would try and seduce Astrid - I laughed, because then I was picturing Dagur trying to serenade her, and giving her flowers, and all that really cheesy stuff. And it was humorous. Thank you 3

Onward!

X

Chapter 4

"Goodnight," Hiccup said, leaving a kiss on her cheek, bringing a shy and slight smile to Astrid's face.

"Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow."

"At the race?"

"Yeah," Astrid nodded.

The candle had been blown out and they'd come back to the darkness of the open smithy. They encased each other in an embrace, sharing one last kiss, holding the moment before releasing each other. Astrid began to walk away and back through the village, home, presumable. Hiccup stood in the darkness, leaning against a pole, and watched her vanish. He sighed, a smug satisfaction on his face, and started toward his own house.

"Come on, Toothless." Hiccup called, and the black dragon slunk from out of the shadows behind the smithy, half asleep and wobbling a bit, and followed Hiccup. It must not have been very far a walk. They weren't attempting to fly.

Neither of them were aware of Dgaur, lurking just in the shadows, watching them walk in separate directions. He could end it right now. He could run up and strike Hiccup dead, just like that, and he would never see it coming. He would be dead in a pool of his blood, the village would wake up in the morning, aghast, fearful, and then with Hiccup gone Dagur could set the entire village a flame, and -

No, that wouldn't work.

What about the Night Fury? Doubtful that it would stand by idly while Hiccup be bludgeoned to death. It would probably lash out. And even as amazing as Dagur knew that he was, the dragon would win in an outright dual.

_Cursed_ _beast_, Dagur gritted his teeth. His fists were clenched tight, breath seething through his pursed lips. But he caught himself, took a deep breath, and pushed the tension aside. His fingers extended, stretching out from his hands, and wiggling in the free air.

"Patience, Dagur." he whispered.

No, that plan wouldn't work. If he did sneak up on Hiccup, thus killing him without his knowledge, then Hiccup wouldn't _see _it coming. He wouldn't see his defeat and demise edging toward him. He wouldn't see his entire crashing down around him, everything he cared about ripped away, death as a release. It would be over too quick.

No. It would be an empty victory that way. The _easy_ way. Dagur wanted Hiccup to be very aware of his defeat. He wanted him alive and begging, completely crushed. No, he couldn't win by sneaking.

Dagur crept along the shadows. Sneaking be damned, but he couldn't do anything if he was spotted. His cover would be blown and his entire plan would be a bust. He wasn't going to be humiliated by defeat by these blasted Berkians again. If anyone was going to be humiliated it was going to be Hiccup!

Dagur shouldn't have let that girl…what was her name? Astrid. That's right. He shouldn't have let her get so far ahead of him. Which house was hers? They all looked the same! Damn these Vikings and their indifferent architecture!

He'd passed another stable filled with a sleeping dragon. He had held his breath at the first dragon, but after it was clear they were too used to footsteps to notice two more, he didn't worry about them. He remained vigilant, however. One wrong move, one dragon stirred, and he was busted.

He upon a Deadly Nadder's stable and was about to pass by when the color of the beast struck him. Blue, yellow, and a bit of gold, he knew that dragon. That was the girl's dragon! Dagur smiled, but contained his excitement, not wanting to exclaim with a sleeping dragon so close. He knew all about the Nadder's tail spoke. He'd taken more than one and had the impressive scars to prove it.

He'd found the girl's house…Astrid's house…now, how to get in?

There's the door. But, Dagur sneered, that was too obvious. Or was it? Was it so obvious that no one would expect it? Dagur crept to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. He didn't hear anything. No above the dragon's breathing, that it. He felt for the knife he kept at his side, at all times, because he never knew when the _urge _to _slice_ would hit him.

He pushed the front door open, minding sound and the dragon, and slipped inside. He loved when things went his way. Inside, the hearth was cold and left the house dark. Wood for tomorrow was stacked neatly beside it. Dagur crept around it to the room in the back, but the girl wasn't there, only two sleeping lumps he assumed were her parents, or whatever.

He fought back the urge to lit the house on fire. It was cast such a brilliant glow on the dark village, bright and yellow, like gold. But he couldn't. He had other plans and needed to follow them threw. When this was all done, and Hiccup was done, he could lit it all ablaze and watch it burn from the comfort of his ships.

Dagur headed upstairs. He kept his eyes on the stairs, setting each foot down carefully, listening intently for creaks. On the third stair from the top, a creak threatened under his toe, and he quickly retracted his boot. Stepping around it, he was standing at the top of the stairs. Finally. It felt as thought it had taken an excruciating age.

The room was dark. In the dim light that drifted in from the window he could see the shadow of the bed. It was near the window where it would be easy for the slumbering dragon outside to jump up and inside. Strategic. Dagur inched to the bedside. She was asleep, curled up under the blanket, holding the pillow like a child holds a stuffed toy. Her yellow hair was strung out from her head and falling loose from her braid.

She kept a sharpened axe under his pillow. Dagur smiled, for he kept a sharpened blade under his pillow, too. It was within hand's reach. Sleeping was being vulnerable. And Dagur _never_ wanted to be caught vulnerable. He also kept a mace in his throne room, three blades in the captain's quarters of his favorite ship, and he'd lost more weapons that Berk had.

Maybe this girl wasn't as much of a mindless dragon-riding Viking as he thought. But, regardless, she was still a dragon-riding Viking and precautions should be taken. He reached for a small leather pouch on his belt. He held out his palm and emptied the pouch's precious contents. It was a small needle coated generously in a poison they'd plundered from an apothecary.

At the time, the apothecary was blabbering on and on about how potent the poison was, attempting to save his skin with knowledge, saying how the poison had been meticulously squeezed from a Scauldron. Unfortunately, for the apothecary, who got to see first hand just how potent it was. And, also quite unfortunate for the apothecary, the poison was just as lethal as he claimed.

However, in smaller doses, he managed to say before his blabbering was cut short, could mimic a severe cold, paralysis, and other such things that were trailed off as his lips stopped working. Dagur was about to find out just what, exactly, the smaller dose did. He poised the needle in his hand and climbed onto the bed. He was careful not to wake her and give her the chance to reach up for the axe. A axe-blade to the face would certainly ruin his night. He could remember her, feisty, not the one to run, and loud. She _would_ make a ruckus.

Dagur readied himself, poked the needed into her arm, and as soon as her eyes began to flutter open, he pinned her to the bed with his weight. His free hand raced to her mouth and cut off whatever obscenity she was about to spit out. Normally, he would have gone for the neck, but there was too much…vital shit there. He'd made that mistake before. No, the neck was where he went when he was trying to kill someone. He wasn't trying to kill her. Not right now.

Her reaction was instant but groggy. Her blue eyes settled on him and the sleepiness vanished, a muffled protest pushing against his hand, hot against his palm. She glared, her eyes dark like the deepest ice, and it didn't take her long to realize that something was wrong. Her limbs writhed beneath him. She tried to push him off. She may be a Viking but she wasn't as strong as he was.

The poison was working. He could see it. Her eyes were fading. Her strength came in bursts, each more pitiful than the last. There was nothing she could do. She was entirely under his control, his domination, and it felt nothing short of _amazing_. He felt…powerful. It boiled in his gut, lighting a fire in his chest, shooting like lightning through his limbs, tingling in his fingers and toes.

She mumbled some curse against his hand. Her strength was nearly gone. Her eyes were fluttering and she was fighting it. He thought she would be out by now. Smugly, he thought, she was a fighter. He liked that. He wanted her to fight back and he wanted to win. Slowly, she drifted into unconsciousness. Her limbs went limp and her eyes fell closed.

Dagur paused, still pinning the limp girl to the bed, and listened. The dragon, if awake, had made no sound or effort to interrupt.

He _harrumphed_.

Some dragon it was if it couldn't even tell when its master was being attacked. Then again, he was far too good to be outsmarted by a dragon. Dagur the Deranged was too smart, too clever, too…too…too deranged! He was far better than any _dragon_.

With the girl out cold, Dagur retreated from the bed and scooped her into his arms. She made no notion, of any kind, as Dagur carried her quietly down the stairs. He stepped over the third stair accordingly. He crept through the house and slipped quietly out the front door. The sleeping Nadder was still, her leg twitching, a dream occupying her dragon-time.

He held his breath as he crept through the village. When it was clear that he wasn't going to run into trouble. He heaved her over his shoulder, making carrying her less bulky, but her hair tickled his neck. Once the village was at a safe distance he broke into a run.

He was beyond ecstatic! This had been the part of the plan that had the most variables, the most chances to be ruined, the most opportunity for disastrous failure. And it had worked! So far, that is. They still had to get off this damned island without being seen.

The secluded beach came into view and he was out of breath as he jumped down into the sand. His boot sank into the loose sand, the sound woke the slumbering Berserkers, who stumbled out of their dragon-pile and to their feet, saluting quickly, a few of them hitting themselves. Dagur shook his head. He thought he was bringing useful Berserkers.

Oh, right, he remembers. He'd brought useless men in case they were discovered. They were expendable. They were also lazy, which meant they would gladly stay behind, in one place, while Dagur did the important task that couldn't be blundered.

"Let's go, you useless buffoons!" Dagur hissed. He climbed onto the ship, girl still flung over his shoulder. The Berserkers shoved off and the night-blue shore of Berk drifted away. "We need to be long gone by sunrise! Or the entire plan is fucked. And it'll be on _your_ heads."

Dagur took the girl into his quarters. He securely bound her hands and feet, and added extra assurance at her knees and waist, binding her arms to her sides. He was admiring his work when she made a sound, a soft moan, and Dagur tore a cloth and tied it mercilessly over her mouth.

He wished he could see Hiccup's face when he realized that she was gone. He wanted to see the _panic_, the worry, the fear. He wanted to _see_ it!

A breathy exhale was muffled by the cloth. He didn't know how long the poison would last, or at least leave her unconsciousness, and he was unsure if he wanted to be there when she came to, or not.

Dagur left the quarters and stood on deck while the Berserkers manned the ship. Berk was slowly shrinking. The sentries were circling, but they left a gap, and it was the same gap that had allowed Dagur to arrive at the island undetected. Either that, or they were incredibly stupid. Either was possible.

He took a deep breath. They'd be halfway home by sunrise. Hiccup wouldn't have a chance to catch up and when he realized what had happened they would be safe and sound, nestled into the sturdy mountainous cover of home. Victory was so close…he could taste it. And it was sweet.

X

Stoick was asleep. His thunderous snoring could shake even the sturdiest of houses. Hiccup had heard him even before he arrived at the front door. Even Toothless shook his head, warbling a whine.

"I know, Bud. It's like living with a Red Death sometimes." Hiccup smiled. He gave Toothless a pat and a scratch.

The hearth fire was burning low. A simmer crackled between a few blackened logs and as Hiccup opened the door a low breeze blew in with him and nearly extinguished the tiny flame. It came back to life as the door shut, not big enough to even flicker, and Hiccup would let it burn itself out. It wouldn't take long. Hiccup slipped upstairs, Toothless right behind him, and sank immediately into bed.

Toothless sank back into his interrupted slumber, mumbling something low on his tongue that Hiccup understood as "Don't wake me up again."

Hiccup rolled over onto his back and pulled the blanket over himself. That morning, when Astrid had barged in demanding a rematch, huffed and ready to throw him into the ocean, he thought he would have to let her fume until she forgot what she was angry about. He'd done that a few times. It generally worked. But sometimes she surprised him.

She'd surprised him tonight. He hadn't been tired and went to the smithy to waste time more efficiently. He hadn't been there two minutes before Astrid had appeared.

"Hiccup, I need to talk to you." she'd said.

Hiccup sighed. He was lucky to have her. She was amazing, mind-blowing, and absolutely infuriating, and he was pretty sure that he loved her.

No, no, he was more that pretty sure. He was damn sure. He loved her.

She loved him. She'd told him so more than once. But every time those three words came out of her mouth he felt this panic in his stomach that surged and clogged his throat. Astrid would smile, touch his cheek, once in a while kiss him, and look at him like a injured baby dragon.

Last night she's said it.

"I love you," It was muffled by her breathlessness, but she had looked at him with those eyes, holding onto him dearly, clinging bare chest to bare chest, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

"I know, Astrid." Hiccup mumbled against her lips, kissing her again, "And one of these days I'm going to say it back."

Astrid had cocked a smile, her breath returning, and slid her toes down his thighs. "If I didn't believe you I'd punch you."

He'd laughed, but he didn't laugh long, for Astrid landed a firm kiss to his mouth.

Hiccup groaned and rubbed his face. Toothless was dreaming and warbled in his sleep, nostrils twitching. He often wondered what dragons dreamt of, most likely flying or fish, or maybe their riders. Thor only knew.

This whole sex business was beyond nerve-wracking. He enjoyed it, a lot, too much to let the risks get in the way. Before, it was easy to say that the risk was greater than the pleasure. But after, it was the other way around. And every time they did it, he wanted to, but he also didn't want to, because he could picture his father's angry face should he have to tell him that Astrid was pregnant.

Hiccup could hear his booming voice shake the house, "She's WHAT?"

Hiccup sighed and rolled onto his side. He was laying awake thinking about her. It wasn't the first time and he knew wouldn't be the last. But recently he'd wondered if she was laying awake thinking about him.

Sleep. Hiccup told himself. He needed sleep.

X


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, this is just a reminder, I can't answer guest reviews, so if you'd like to ask me something, shoot me a message either on here or on tumblr - I'm sjhodge - This hasn't been much of a problem with this story, more so with others, I'd just like to add the note here as well.

X

Chapter 5

She was cold. It was dark. Beyond these two facts, Astrid knew little of her situation. Everything was blurred and muffled, like she'd been submerged in water, but her insides were burning. Her stomach was churning and lashing angrily upward. She was exhausted. Her body wasn't listening to her. She told it to move but it wouldn't. She couldn't. Something held her firmly in place.

A sudden motion thudded the blurriness around her. Was that thunder?

_Come on, Astrid. _She ordered herself. But her body was firmly stationary.

There was a numbness that separated her from herself, a grogginess pulled her downward, into a sleep she tried to fight. Sleep, it said, to sleep and never wake up.

X

A light erupted. It was bright, blurred reddish and yellow, and staggered toward her. It swayed unevenly, back and forth, slowly becoming larger. She was grabbed and hauled forward. The light moved around her. Was she moving? Or was the world moving around her? A sudden lurch sent her stomach into angry waves. She felt it surge up her throat. Something hard hit her knees and something clutched her, holding her aloft, as her stomach emptied.

X

She was moving but not of her own accord. She was cold. She was being carried by something warm. It only made her that much more aware of the cold. She tried to pull it around her, smother herself in it, to rid herself of the stiffening cold that shivered her bones. But her body was still ignoring her.

Was she dreaming? Yes, that had to be it. This was a horrible dream. This was one of those nightmarish worlds that she couldn't wake up from.

X

Was that talking? It was low and mumbled, a murmur underneath water. Metal doors squeaked open and thudded closed. Footsteps padded on stone and echoed off the walls. Flashes of firelight flickered. Blurred shadows danced back and forth, dissipating as quickly as they appeared, here and then there, gone.

X

The cold on her skin was lessened but it was nearly unbearable. Her limbs were numb and her body was burning, a fire sprawling out of control in her stomach, surging pinching pain through every muscle, fingers to toes. She was floating, being carried, by something warm. She could feel the warmth of a chest, a heart beating inside it, against her cheek.

Low voices mumble to each other. A door opened, metal squeaking on rusty hinges, yellow-orange firelight twinkled. The warmth that held her left and was replaced by a cold stone, smoothed but uneven, and not as pleasant as the heart beat. Sleep, her body asked. Sleep, her mind yearned. She couldn't fight it. Sleep, she needed.

X

Dagur sat on his overly ornate throne, he'd pilfered it from some meaningless little village without a name, and it had been so ridiculously out of place among those pitiful worthless people. It belonged here. It belonged to him, Dagur the Deranged. It too marvelous to have anyone else sit on it. It was too grand for anyone less accomplished, less feared, less infamous. A man of his word belonged in it.

He took a deep breath of the fire-warmed air. His plan had gone remarkable well, _splendidly_, considering all that could have gone wrong. Of course, he was _Dagur_ after all.

"Ah, this feels great! Damn great!" Dagur explained, throwing his arms out and bringing them to land on the sturdy arms of the throne.

His men, sitting on wobbly stools and rocks, nodded their helmeted heads. There was a general murmur of agreement.

"What do we do now, Dagur?" one of them asked.

"Next?" Dagur demanded. He blinked at the speak. Was he questioning him? His men _should _know better than that.

"Now that we have the girl, what do we do with her?" He asked.

Dagur stared at the man. He gapped, frustrated, and finally spat, "It's not obvious? Fools. We have the girl to lure Hiccup." He spoke with his hands. "Hiccup and his dragon come to us, desperate, worried, panicked, and then we take him out!"

He slammed his fist onto the throne's arm. There was roars of cheers.

"I will hold her here and present by ransom demands to Hiccup, no friends, no Vikings, no other dragons, he must come alone, with his Night Fury. He'll come, and while he's distracted we'll take them down! He and his dragon won't stand a chance." his Berserkers cheered. Dagur swelled with excitement, with selfish pride, but it was soon deflated. He gripped the throne's arm. His men still chuckled.

"Is there something wrong, Dagur?" one of them asked, tentatively.

Dagur thought of the smear of fresh blood along his favorite blade, the shiny warmth, the slick stick, but decided against it. He didn't want to waste the energy to walk over there. "Yes, something is wrong."

Dagur's sure and steady words silenced the room. Every Berserker was paused, still as if dead, watching Dagur with intention, legs ready to burst into motion, to dive out of the way of his next target. Dagur stood up and he relished the terror that swept through the room.

"If I kill Hiccup as soon as he get here then I won't witness his ultimate destruction." Dagur said, plainly.

He paced. His crisp and clear plan sounded nice, brilliant, and foolproof. But he wanted to see Hiccup suffer. Foolproof or suffer, which did he want more? Assured victory or ultimate destruction? He groaned with the decision, throwing his hands up in frustration, kicking the side of the throne. It made little impact. He grabbed a nearby cup and threw it hard against the opposite wall. It slammed into the stone and shattered. A dark line of mead lead from Dagur to the pieces of broken clay.

It helped. It always helped.

"I changed my mind." Dagur announced, resuming calm, "When Hiccup arrives, I will not kill him. You will not kill him. First, we shall take care of the Night Fury. Then, the girl. Then, if anyone else decides to follow, THEM, and only when Hiccup is _crushed_, beyond hope, without anything but _despair_, he will _beg _for it, and he'll die, by THESE hands!"

His men did not object. They knew better. They cheered for this new plan with more vigor and glee than the other.

"But Dagur, how will Hiccup know to come?" one of them asked.

This question had stopped Dagur's resurging feeling of success. He glared at the man for ruining his moment of brilliance. The Berserker stepped back, looked quickly around at his fellows but found no sympathy, and readied himself to run for his life. He looked back at Dagur with a terror that readily replenished Dagur's supply of happiness.

Dagur watched this reaction. It filled a sullen hole in his chest that the very same man had created just seconds before, with his…_doubting_ _questions_. He had, however, pointed out the next part of the plan. It was a light dilemma but Dagur wouldn't dare admit that to them. He would barely admit it to himself.

"We will let Hiccup worry about her for a while. Besides, I'm hungry. I think better with a full stomach." Dagur sighed. He waved his hand toward them. One of them had better be filling his need for food soon or heads would begin to roll.

X

Astrid had woken up countless time before it finally registered that something was wrong. She wasn't home. This wasn't her bed. She was lying on a cold stone floor, much too hard to be her bed, with no blanket keeping her warm. Stormfly's occasional dream-squawk was absent.

She came and went between liquid moments of conscious and turbulent sleeping. It slowly ebbed, loosening her stake on reality. A torch lit the small space and added a pitiful heat. It looked like it had been carved out of solid rock. A metal door had been set into the stone and a small window near its top was closed.

She was bound and couldn't move. The ropes were tight around her middle. A gag held her mouth shut. She couldn't move. She wasn't going anywhere like this.

She felt horrible. Sick. Her stomach churned but it felt empty. She could smell the acidic twinge of vomit and taste it on her tongue. She was weak and she trembled. What the hell happened?

She tried to think.

Berk. She'd been home. Stormfly. Hiccup.

Hiccup. She was angry at him. But she didn't want to be. She went to find him. The blacksmith stalls…they talked…she'd taken him into the back. They'd had make-up sex. It had been good, she remembered.

She'd said goodnight to him. She had patted Stormfly before bed.

Bed. A terrible dream flashed, someone kneeling over her, holding her down. It had been dark. Pain. She remembered pain.

And then…nothing.

There was nothing to indicate a location. It was a dungeon, doubtless. Underground? She couldn't hear the ocean, or dragons, or people. It was silent. The only sounds were coming from her and the torch. Was she in jail? She hadn't done anything. Had she gone somewhere and forgotten about it? Was this someone's mean form of a joke? If it was then somebody was going to die.

She was starving but the smell of vomit was pushing her appetite away. Her limbs left like stiff dough. What the hell did she do to herself? How long had she been here?

The soft din of footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, coming closer, and stopped in front of the door. Soft murmurs muffled against the metal. She held her breath. A tension tightened in her gut. The door squealed open, a eerily familiar sound, and the footstep came inside.

"Dagur?" Astrid tried to say, but the gag muffled the sound and a hoarseness in her throat marbled it further.

"Yes, it's me!" Dagur threw his arms out wide. "Surprise, surprise."

It was, actually. Astrid blinked at him. Dagur had kidnapped her? She thought back to that dark shape hovering above her bed. That must have been him. A million questions surged to her throat but found no escape.

Dagur thrust forward, landing on his knees beside her, his face calm and twisted in a humorless grin. Astrid wanted to push herself away from him but the ropes made it difficult. Dagur was watching her, just looking, like a curious but uncertain dragon, and she really wished that he'd stop. If she wasn't tied down she could take him, break his crazy neck, and get the hell out of here.

Here. Which was…Berserker island? Sure, why not.

His quick movement surprised her. His hand flinched, and she prepared for the hit, but instead of striking her he ran a rough finger along her cheek. His dark eyes were wide, watching his own finger, like a hypnotized Terrible Terror. His fixation was eerie but when his eyes shifted to hers she wished he'd looked back down.

"You know, this doesn't have to happen the hard way." Dagur said, sweetly, his breath charmed with mead and fish. His hand abandoned her cheek and reached for her hair. He took the brain in his hand, playing with it, running his thumb over the woven texture, a sickening admiration of some pseudo-lover. She'd love nothing more than to punch a few of his teeth out. The more the better. "You could stay here, in this cold, lonely, sad prison cell, slowly dying. Or," he gripped her hair tighter, pulling it slightly, "You could cooperate. I'm sure that I could find a more…comfortable arrangement for you. Warm food, drink, company. Only the best amenities."

Was he fucking serious? That's his plan? Sleep in here or sleep with me? Scumbag.

Dagur's dark eyes flickered toward hers again. His fists clenched around her braid. His face was blank, expectant. She glared back at him. Although, maybe she could use this to her advantage. If he wanted an answer he'd have to remove the gag. She blinked down to it. Dagur smirked, clever bastard.

"But it's up to you entirely." Dagur said blankly. The lack of expression in his face was more than creepy. It was in the middle of his extremes. It could change in any direction faster than fire ate dry grass.

She wanted to tell him to fuck off. She wanted to ask why she was here. What did he want? Why her? Why now? How did she get here? But all she could do was mumble. He was looking at her so expectantly, like he knew her answer, and it sent such an anger through her. She'd beat that smirk off his face the first chance that she got.

He stood and took a step toward the door. It didn't look like he was removing the gag. He was still looking, waiting. "Last chance,"

To insure her answer was received she narrowed her eyes at him, glaring as hard as she could. She shook her head, no. _Not-in-a-million-fucking-years-you're-the-last-male-on-the-world no. _

"You choose the hard way? Fine." Dagur shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me, girl. It won't change a thing."

She kept her eyes on him. Explain it to me, Dagur, she implored silently. He only smiled, and left. The door slammed behind him.

Astrid sighed. He could have at least loosened this damn ropes. Or untied her altogether. Or left something eat. Gods, she was hungry.

X

A sudden crushing thump on his abdomen thrust Hiccup out of his dream. He quickly forgot about it as Toothless's warm wet tongue slapped him across the face, leaving a slick slim on his skin.

"Get off!" Hiccup spat, he loved Toothless, but he didn't want his spit in his mouth. He managed to tilt himself over the bed and spit into the floor. He wiped his face with a groan. "Why, Toothless?"

Toothless bounced across the room, in a circle, happy to see him awake. If he'd understood that Hiccup had been angry then it did not phase him. He watched Hiccup slowly get out of bed, wiping the remaining spit from his face with a disgusted and tired groan, warbling to urge haste.

"Okay, okay," Hiccup stretched his arm over his head.

Toothless bounced as Hiccup threw the saddle over his back and fastened it into place. He double-checked the straps and the tail mechanism. It was getting a bit old. It would be easier to built another one than to upkeep the old one. Maybe that afternoon he could start on the design.

They jumped from the window, catching the air under his spread wings, and off they flew. Berk shrank quickly, the icy air whipped passed, stinging his face and hands. It was amazing. Soon the clouds were a floor and the blue-gold of the clear sky was the only ceiling.

X

Morning in Berk was met with a chill. Ingrid Hofferson rolled out of bed and went to start the hearth fire. She should have let it burn through the night. But no, her parents' habit of conserving firewood and shivering at night had set in. She tossed the new wood into the hearth and sparked it herself. She didn't need a dragon for fire. Give Berk a few more generations with those creatures and no one will be able to start a fire on their own, or walk, for that matter. Not with all these flying Vikings about.

The fire trickled up the wood and the house was slowly filling with warmth. She sighed, time to start the bread. Flour, water, the same routine she did every morning, only this time she was wrist deep in the sticky dough when that dragon starting a ruckus. She was squawking and rattling those claws on the floor. She'd leave marks.

"Blasted beast," Ingrid murmured under her breath, and threw the dough back down on the table and stomped upstairs to Astrid's bedroom.

Stormfly was bent in the window, flapping her wings on the outside, bobbing her head as Ingrid came upstairs. Big yellow eyes watched her, clenching and unclenching her claws, dancing back and forth on the sill like a gull. Damn dragon never sat still, not unlike Astrid.

"Astrid?" Ingrid asked. Thinking of Astrid had made Ingrid conscious of the emptiness of the room. Astrid wasn't there. Why didn't she take the dragon? "Astrid?"

Stormfly squawked louder.

The bed's cover had been thrown halfway into the floor. Ingrid stomped over and yank the blanket back onto the bed. The pillow had been pushed to the edge of the bed and dangled haphazardly off. She pulled it back onto the bed.

Stormfly bobbed her head and warbled lowly. She titled her head almost sullenly toward Ingrid.

"Oh, go on, no dragons in the house. You know that." Ingrid shooed the dragon. Stormfly tilted her head and withdrew a bit from the window. "She's not here, go find her with that nose of yours."

Stormfly leaned back from the window and spread her blue and yellow wings out. With a farewell warble she pushed from the window sill, the wood creaking and sighing, and Ingrid returned to the kitchen to knead the dough she'd left.

X

This story is kicking my butt. I wanted this chapter done, tonight, which technically ended about two hours ago, but I didn't want to stop and pick up tomorrow. I do better if I do the entire edit at once.

A/N - I've used Ingrid as Astrid's mother before, because her parents are left a mystery by canon-land, so I made her parents. I don't know if she had a dad in this story because his presence hadn't been made necessary or not. Meh.


	6. Chapter 6

Whoo! Chapter 6! I refused to quite until this chapter was done. And now it's done. Enjoy!

X

Chapter 6

Astrid was cold. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was miserable, completely fucking miserable. Her exposed skin was like ice and the rest of it wasn't fairing much better. Her stomach rumbled and clawed at her insides. Her tongue was sticky and the cold air stung at her nostrils and burned the back of her throat. There was an ache in her head that had lessened since she'd arrived and a residual dullness in her limbs. And on top of it all she couldn't ignore the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

She struggled against the ropes. They were tied tight and there didn't seem to be any wiggle room. He couldn't move her wrist because her elbows were pinned to her sides. Her feet were barred from the ropes around her thighs. There just wasn't a way to get out of them. If only she could free herself then she could wring Dagur's crazy neck.

There was a bucket shoved in the corner of the room that she'd been denying. She wouldn't be degraded to peeing in a bucket in a jail cell. No. First she would free herself. Second she would break Dagur's stupid crazy neck. Yes, that was the plan. However, part one wasn't going as well as she wanted. She struggled and struggled but the ropes weren't giving in, and the pressure in her abdomen only grew.

There weren't a lot of options. Her bladder was bulging and sooner or later it'd pop. She wouldn't be degraded to peeing herself. No way. She gave on more hard pull on her wrists when the heavy metal door unlocked. She stilled as it slammed open and Dagur walked inside, smiling coolly, hands resting comfortably behind his back.

If only she could punch that sneer of his face. And half of his jaw, too.

"Good morning," Dagur said with fake sincerity. "Is there anything that the lady needs?"

The lady? It was better than other things, she supposed. She stared at him. She was going to have to ask, wasn't she? That's what he wanted. He wanted to be in complete control. Well, he had it, and she was getting desperate. She couldn't hold it forever.

Astrid, still gagged, looked toward the bucket in the room's corner. She looked back at Dagur. He raised a brow and followed her line of sight when she repeated the action, this time added a nod of her head, and then he laughed, but his smile retreated.

"Fine, fine," Dagur sighed. He withdrew the knife as his belt, groaned and rolling his eyes, and reached toward her.

Her chest thumped at the uncomfortable closeness. His hand gripped the ropes the bound her legs and with one steady saw motion of his blade the ropes slacked and fell to the floor. Fluidly he grabbed those at her torso. His hand firmly gripped the topmost rope which hugged just below her bust. He slowly pushed the blade between his two fingers. She could fee it under her shirt, just one flick away from tearing into her rather than the ropes, so when Dagur deftly drug the knife through the ropes she released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She could breath, freely, at least. Dagur returned the knife to his belt. But her hands and feet were still bound. She glared, how was she supposed to go like this?

"What?" Dagur shrugged. "I'm not setting _entirely _free. I'm not an idiot. HEY!"

Astrid jumped when he yelled over his shoulder. But she didn't have to wait long to see the result. A large lumbering boulder of a man appeared in the doorway. He was almost too tall and his shoulder were too wide so he had to step sideways to come in. He stood, attentive by the door, waiting like a well-trained dragon.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Assist the lady with her…girl needs." Dagur motioned to the bucket in the corner.

Astrid squirmed away from the Berserker as he took a step towards her, hands outstretched, a shameless and unblinking expression on the narrow part of his face left exposed by the Berserker helmet.

She was very capable of taking herself to the bathroom. She did _not _need to be taken there like some useless human lump. She'd rather pee herself than be degraded to something so pathetic. But despite her internal complaints and declining, the Berserker grabbed her by the arms and lifted her into the air. He carried her to the room's corner where the bucket sat empty.

Dagur turned his back, a sadistic attempt at modesty, while the Berserker wordlessly assisted the lady. He tapped his foot like this was all an annoyance to him. Her face was burning red. It was partly due to humiliation but mostly from the hatred that seethed under her skin. She felt relief but it had come at a cost that left her exposed.

At least, she tried to comfort herself, the Berserker appeared completely unphased by the ordeal. He had said nothing. He had made no sound. He had not raised a brow or scoffed. He hadn't even watched her, really. It was like he had no emotion output. When she'd finished he had fixed her clothing and replaced her in the same place from which he'd picked her up. Then he lumbered back into the hallway.

"He's not the brightest, far from it, he's quite dull. But he's as loyal and reliable as they come." Dagur commented casually. "It's hard to find good help like him these days. He's useless on the battle front but otherwise he's a excellent house keeper." Dagur smiled and knelt down to be eyelevel with her. "Do you know why I came to see you?"

She stared back at him. Did he honestly expect her to answer though the gag or was this more of his control games?

"Of course not," he said smugly.

She'd punch that smug smirk from his face.

"I've got an indestructible plan to destroy Hiccup." Dagur grinned. He leaned in to trace her chin with his fingertips. She leaned away from his touch but she crawled after her.

Oh yeah, and what's going to make this time different from any another?

"This time I'm focusing on the journey instead of the ending." Dagur whispered, "You see, I'll send word to Berk explaining that I have something very important, and if Hiccup wants to see it again, he'll come to see me, alone, with his dragon, to trade for it."

Was she the _it _that he was referring to? It. He was degrading her an object. A thing to be retrieved. A item for men to reason war over.

Dagur smiled too widely, baring his uneven teeth like eager fangs, "When Hiccup comes to trade he will be ambushed. His dragon with be slaughter. We'll make mead with it's blood." His grip on her chin tightened. "His bitch will be picked apart, piece by piece, and dropped at his feet." He pressed his thumb into her skin with painful pressure. "And then he'll die, slowly, mercilessly…I can see it…and it is beautiful."

He squealed between his mad laughs, a crackling and high pitch sound that shivered over her skin. When he calmed he cupped her cheek, his thumb running a short line along her cheek bone. His dark eyes shifted and bore into hers. They were burning with a mad curiosity and flicking back and forth between the features of her face. His fingers slide from her cheek and hovered. He gently brushed a hair away from her face and let his fingers linger in the loose hair around her face.

"What _is_ it about you that Hiccup loves so much?" Dagur whispered.

She could smell the mead on his breath. She thought of the mead made from dragon's blood but it was quickly swept aside, her own thirst yearning for the bitter sweetness of Berk's mead, brewing in barrels that perfumed the entire storage cavern.

In her temporary distraction she missed the sudden jolt of his hand. His hand twisted in her hair while the other savagely ripped the gag from her jaw. She didn't have to time to react before his mouth replaced it, kissing her roughly. Her back was against the wall and there was no where to go. He threw her to the floor and ripped the lock of hair from her head.

She collided with the floor, scalp burning, and her angry shout turned into a painful yelp. "…fucking bastard…what was that for?"

"He needs incentive," Dagur said blankly, examining the torn yellow lock.

Astrid shouted at him, letting her anger fly out in unintelligible roars, screaming her throat dry. She tried to throw herself at him, desperate to hurt him, to do any kind of damage she could. But he grabbed her by the arm and threw her back down, unphased. She landed with a lung-squeezing thump.

X

Hiccup, fresh from his afternoon flight, flew low over the village. He absently scanned below, half-looking for a place to land, half-watching for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes fell upon the dragon stable joint to Astrid's house. Blue and yellow was massed in the hay. Curious, he nudged Toothless to land.

Toothless landed a short way away from the stable and Hiccup hopped to the ground. Stormfly was curled up inside the stable and gave no notice that she knew they'd landed. But Hiccup knew that she would know, she was too keen a dragon to miss something like that, and her lack of interest disturbed him. Something was wrong. He inched his way closer. Deadly Nadders weren't fans of surprises and Stormfly wasn't an exception.

She was curled in the nest, nose to tail, her entire body relaxed into depression.

"Hey, there, girl, what's the matter?" Hiccup said softly.

Stormfly softly trilled. Her yellow eyes flickered open, saw him, and closed. She's sounded so…sad.

Toothless followed Hiccup into the stable and warbled softly, watching Stormfly with wide and vigilant eyes. She gave a short answer, a low trill and a gentle shake of her tail, that reflected her somber attitude. Hiccup watched their calm discussion and wished he could understand them. It would have solved so many problems over the years.

Toothless grew silent, his eyes watching a quiet Stormfly. He looked at Hiccup, something important on the tip of his knowledge that he couldn't put into words. He nudged Hiccup with worried eyes but his meaning was lost.

"What is it?" Hiccup asked, knowing Toothless wouldn't be able to answer.

He warbled.

Hiccup sighed, patting Toothless on the nose. He looked back to Stormfly. He'd never seen her like this. Compared to her normal chipper attitude she was depressed. But he didn't know why.

"Come on, Toothless." Hiccup ran around to the front door to the house. He knocked quickly.

He heard a mumbled permission to enter.

He opened the door and the warm smell of baking bread welcomed him. Ingrid was heaving a tray of done loafs from the fire. She set them down with a sigh.

"Afternoon, Hiccup, what can I do for you?" Ingrid asked, smiling at him over her work. She had grown immensely fond of him since he started calling Astrid his girlfriend.

"Hi, Ingrid." Hiccup greeted her. He still felt strange about being alone with her. He swallowed, remembering Stormfly outside. "Is Stormfly alright?"

"Oh? The dragon? Thor only knows. She's been like that all morning." Ingrid said as she twisted more dough onto the baking platter. She worked the sticky dough easily and tossed it down in perfect shapes. "Why?"

"Oh, it's just that I-I never seen her so down like that." Hiccup shrugged.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Ingrid said.

Hiccup wasn't so sure. The imagine of Stormfly lying there so saddened wasn't sitting well with him. "Is Astrid home?"

"No, I haven't seen her."

"She's not here?"

"No," Ingrid shook her head, looking at him curiously, "She must've left before sunup."

Hiccup shook his head. "No, Astrid wouldn't gone anywhere without Stormfly. If she's missing,"

Ingrid interrupted, "Oh, 'missing' is a strong word. I'm sure she'll pop up sometime today. She loves the slightly burnt bread. I always try to leave one in a little longer for her."

There was a small change in her voice. She smiled at him and returned to her work. He recognized that smile. He'd seen it on Astrid, when she was worried but refused to let it show, when she was determined to be strong.

"Here," Ingrid said, tossing him a loaf fresh from the table.

"Thank you," Hiccup nodded, catching it in both his hands. It was warm and soft and smelled delicious. If only Astrid had inherited some of her mother's cooking skills.

X

Gran sat down at the table, glad to be off his feet. He'd stupidly admitted to feeling better that morning and after a filling breakfast these Vikings had drug him off to work. He'd patched a roof, delivered firewood, and spent too much time cleaning out dragon stables. The stench of dragon dung still clung to his nostrils. He was sure he smelled like it, too, that and dragon spit. It had been everywhere.

Gran shuttered. He wasn't cut out for this…homely life. It was too docile and peaceful. Nothing ever happened. He wanted to see something on fire. He wanted to hear the grand greeting of an explosion. He wanted to hear the terrified and panicked screams and cries people facing death and destruction.

How much longer would he have to wait here? What did Dagur even expect him to do? He had the girl. He hadn't told him anything else before he'd left. Was he supposed to stay here as a spy? Keep an eye on the village? Yeah, that had to be it. He'd keep an eye on these Hooligans. Whenever Dagur's plan unfolded, Gran would be there. Then he could see all kinds of things on fire.

X


	7. Chapter 7

It's three thirty in the morning right now. Somehow I've completely messed up my sleeping-clock. But, I did get this chapter done. So there's a plus. Whoo!

X

Chapter 7

She was no longer gagged but her situation had only slightly improved. Desperately thirty, each swallow was met with harshly parched resistance. She was equally hungry. Her stomach had given up rumbling but she could feel the lack of energy draining her strength.

Someone should be missing her by now. Hiccup and the others were probably on their way. Probably.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud footsteps that echoed down the corridor outside. She straight her back. She refused to let Dagur see her as weak as she felt. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

The heavy door was unlocked and Dagur paraded inside, chest puffed out and chin held high. He looked ridiculous but Astrid kept her mouth shut. As much as she didn't want to admit it her life was in his hands. He cold lash out and kill her if he wanted to, on a whim, just because he felt like it.

"You should know that I just sent my demands to Berk." Dagur said smugly.

"Then why'd you come back?" Astrid asked.

"Because I'm still curious." Dagur said. He walked across the small cell to where Astrid sat, still bound at the wrists and ankles, and crouched down. "I know why Hiccup loves the Night Fury. It's a fucking Night Fury! But _you_, what's so special about you? Hmm?"

Astrid shook her head at him. "What does that matter?"

Dagur wasn't listening to her, or if he was, he was ignoring her. In a sudden blast of madness he reached forward, gripped her bound wrists, and yanked her to him. She was sent off balance and reeling forward. In a fluid motion he unsheathed the dagger at his belt and bent it toward her.

She panicked, bracing for the metal slashing into her skin, but instead heard the ripping of ropes. The ropes that had bound her wrists fell to the floor. There was a moment of disbelief but it soon vanished as he threw her onto the floor. He reached for her feet.

Her panic turned into surprise. She was free. This was her chance. She pulled her legs underneath her and pushed herself up. The world spun and she felt a vicious delay between her thoughts and actions. She stumbled forward. Rough hands caught her. The stone floor was at her back and the impact pushed the air from her chest.

"Where are you going?" Dagur asked, in a singsong voice that chilled her. His eyes were bright with wide insanity.

His hands fisted in her shirt and lifted the material from her torso. She shouted a protest but he ignored her. He yanked the shirt roughly from her skirt and pulled it forcefully over her head. The cold stone came into contact with her bare skin and it sent an onslaught of shivers along her arms and back. Dagur's nails snaked across her stomach and she tried to pull away. In desperate defense she thrust her newly freed foot into his side.

"…bitch!" Dagur yelled as he stumbled backward, hand clutching his side, an unfathomable anger raging on his face.

He reeled back and she saw a path to the open door. Her blood was pumping and she dashed toward it. She lunged for the door but was halted by two massive Berserkers, armed to the teeth, standing like boulders just outside the door. They both instinctively reached for swords waiting for bloodshed at their backs.

She was trapped.

In her hesitation, Dagur's angry hands grabbed her, tightening on her arms, and threw her back to the ground with a strength fueled by rage. He shouted intelligibly and reached for her boots. He ripped them from he feet and tore threads in her leggings as he wrenched them down her legs.

"Stop!" Astrid screamed as he reached for her skirt. She tried to stop him but he smacked her hand away with enough force to knock it into the stone wall. He took it, leaving her in her undergarments. She curled away from him. Dagur grabbed her forearm and pulled her toward him. His hand arm was reaching out, and in a fearful last defense she gathered what saliva she could and spat at him.

It hit him on the cheek and he released her. He stepped back and wiped the spit from his face, madness flaring in his eyes like she hadn't seen.

"You bitch," Dagur said in disgust. "How dare you…"

He lunged at her and there was no where to go. He pinned her to the floor of the cell, his weight holding her fast. She was trapped underneath him, weak from hunger and thirst, cold and exposed. She tried to fight him but he was stronger.

"You are at my mercy!" Dagur screamed at her. The coolness of his armor and the rough wool of his shirt only made her nakedness more prominent. "I could kill you! You are nothing in here! You live because I let you!"

Her fear was amplified as he forced his waist between her legs. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the tell-tale prod of his arousal against her inner thigh. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Stop," Astrid begged.

She saw the mad joy in his grin. He was preying on her vulnerability and enjoyed it. He thrust his erection into her thigh and relished the pained torture. His hips butted against hers and he watched her face in mad wonder. He was fully clothed but his arousal felt too close. Her hands where shaking but she tried to push him off. Her attempts to scoot away from him only made him push harder.

"I could." Dagur said, wide eyed and drinking in her panic and fear like sweet mead. "I could take you, right now, as many times as I want, and leave you cold and half dead on the floor."

Astrid could feel his hot breath against her neck. His threat wasn't unfounded. She flinched as his hand reached for her neck. His calloused fingers closed around her throat. Her pulse quickened and hammered against his hand. Her breath was squeezed out. Blood pooled in her head and heated her face.

Darkness edged in at the corners of her vision. She tried to plead but her words were lost.

"But," Dagur said as he lightened his grip, pushing back the darkness, "I won't. not like this. No, I want Hiccup to see. I want him to watch."

He withdrew his hand and stood up. Astrid doubled over in a coughing fit, trying to recover her lost breath. Dagur was looming over her, grinning wildly. The idea of him taking her while Hiccup watched was insane, despicable, deranged, and perfectly fitting for Dagur.

Dagur picked up the clothing that he'd taken. He smiled at her as he left, slamming the door behind him, and leaving her in the shadows of the cell. Astrid curled into herself, hugging her bare legs to her chest, trying to calm her shaking. She could see feel the pressing of his erection against her. He could have done it. She wouldn't have been able to do anything. She could have screamed her voice raw but no one would have come to help her. No was would have saved her.

It was that helplessness that was both infuriating and terrifying.

X

Dagur returned to his chambers in an irksome combination of anger and triumph. He tossed the girl's clothes aside.

"Damn that bitch!" He roared. He wanted to hear her scream but he wanted to crush Hiccup. He shouted again, and punched the sand-filled leather bag that hung from his ceiling. It was a fantastic anger-lessening technique that he'd come up with all on his own. Quite ingenious really.

Damn that girl. He'd wanted to have her. He should have just taken her. He'd wanted to, badly. And he still did. He looked down at the proof between his legs and scowled. He'd have to deal with this. He stomped to his favorite chair that sat beside the fire. He sat down, unbuckled his belt, and sighed at the immediately relief.

He started the motions, thinking that he, Dagur the Deranged, should have someone to do this for him. He'd look for one next time they plundered. Or, when Hiccup was dead he could just keep that girl. She had to be good for something, and women were all good for _one _thing. He thought of the half-naked girl on the stone floor. She had been terrified. Damn her. Her skin was perfect. Her hair was beautiful. Her eyes were blue like the deepest ocean.

He wanted to hear her scream. She had begged him, _pleaded_ for him not to, and the sound of her voice pushed him closer to the edge. He moaned to the sound of her pleading, at the prospect of her screams, her desperate pleas.

X

Her status only worsened. Her thirst was unbearable and her stomach was ravenous. Now she was freezing. She shook uncontrollably. She slept in fits and was woken by the tight pain in her limbs from the cold. She tried to bundle herself within her limbs but it only helped so much. Everything was weak and in pain. This couldn't go on.

How long had she been here? Hours? Days? She couldn't tell. Time was blurring together.

Booted footsteps were echoing down the corridor. Dagur. What now? Did he want to rub it in more? Damn him. She would punch that prick's smug grin off his face. His last look would be one of fear. She would tear him to pieces and he would know exactly who killed him. She would be the last thing that he'd see.

The door unlocked and swung open. Dagur strolled inside with a jug in one hand and a half-eaten load of bread in the other. She could smell the sweetness of mead. Her throat cried for it. Her mouth watered at the sight of the bread. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to refuse anything that he gave her. But…desperation was a fickle thing. It was settling in and pushing aside her pride.

_No. I won't beg for it. I'll die first._

"This particular batch of mead is quite delicious." Dagur commented casually, "We didn't make it here, which is why. Berserkers are good at many things but food making sadly isn't one of them. Take this bread for example. It's dry. Tasteless. And stale."

Dagur swished the mead as he talked. The smell waffled into the air and Astrid considered just taking it from him, regardless of the consequences. Just a sip, that's all she needed. Gods, it smelled sweet.

Dagur was smiling at her. He held the jug out a little ways from her and her throat clapped shut. She swallowed and felt the dryness, like she'd swallowed sand. Dagur's smile widened.

"Are you thirsty?" Dagur smiled, watching her reaction with glee, "I'll trade you a drink for a kiss."

Bastard. Astrid withheld her desperation and focused her eyes into a glare.

Dagur retracted the jug. He kept his black eyes on her while he took a long drink, filling his mouth, puffing out his cheeks. He didn't swallow. He set the jug down on the stone. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, sliding his hand into the base of her braid, pulling her roughly to him. He pressed his lips to hers.

She wanted to push him off but the taste of mead was overwhelming. Desperation was poking incessantly at the back of her throat. Temptation got the better of her. She opened her mouth against his lips and he did the same. The mead flowed from his mouth into hers. It was sweet and the most delicious she'd ever. It wet her tongue and quenched her throat with amazing refreshment.

She took all the mead that his mouth had to offer. She wanted more. But as she drank the last drops he followed the mead's path with his tongue. It crashed into hers and it felt more like he was trying to force it down her throat. His tongue wondered over hers, her teeth, and licked her lips as he let go of her.

"See?" Dagur smiled, "That wasn't so bad."

He took another long drink from the jug and made to pull her toward him. Astrid didn't wait for him to pull her. She met his lips with hers. She wanted the mead. She was still thirsty. She opened her mouth against his and drank the mead he offered. She drank greedily and gave him tongue-payment in return.

Dagur tore off a piece of bread and Astrid half-expected him to eat it first, but he didn't. He simply handed it to her, placing it directly into her mouth. She closed her mouth around his finger and he slowly withdrew it. He was watching her with a revolting interest.

"Bread doesn't work like mead," Dagur said, explanatory. His eye were watching her lips. He tore off another and plopped it into her waiting mouth.

The bread was dry, stale, and tasteless. But it was the best bread she'd ever had. She had eaten half of it when Dagur reached for the jug. He filled his own mouth and Astrid didn't give him the time to set the jug down. She grabbed the front of his shirt and lunged to his lips. He let out of a moan of surprise but didn't resist her. He wrapped a hand around his waist and helped her into his lap.

It was mediocre form of control but she would take whatever leverage she could get. He would be at _her_ mercy.

She bit at his tongue as he slid it passed her lips after the mead. He flexed his fingers at her back. His rough nails poked into her skin while his tongue played tag with hers long after the mead had been drank.

Astrid wasn't sure where this plan was going. She was leaning on him. She was taking control. He was in charge. She would break down his defenses and snap his neck. She leaned more, pushing him back, aiming for the floor. She would pin him down. She would escape.

Dagur laughed against her lips. He used his greater weight against her to push her back.

"Sly, aren't you?" Dagur laughed. He took another drink from the jug. For the first time since she'd known him, he looked almost normal. His eyes were cool and his face was blank with the overlaying of happiness. She took his offered drink.

"What will you do if Hiccup comes with others?" Astrid asked when the mead was gone. She leaned against the stone wall. "He will, you know. He'll come with the whole Berk army. He won't fall for your plan."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's smarter than you."

Dagur smiled, and laughed. "Don't worry about that. I've instructed Hiccup very clearly. He will come, alone, and if he doesn't, you'll die. And then it won't matter." He reached out and stroked her cheek. His dark eyes drifted down her body and lingering along her stomach and chest. He put a warm hand on her cold arm. "You're shivering,"

"It's cold in here. And you took my clothes." Astrid said.

"There's a warm fire in my room, furs, warm food, a soft bed." Dagur said, his voice a whisper.

All of those things sounded like unattainable luxuries. She wanted to say yes. She wanted the warmth that his hand against her arm promised. She wanted the warmth of a bright fire. She wanted the comfort of a fur lined bed. But it wasn't worth falling into Dagur's bed.

Astrid shook her head, "No."

Dagur's reaction was instant. His minimal joy evaporated and his cold stare returned. He stood up, jug in hand, and retreated to the doorway. He stopped beside the torch and in a fluid movement he extinguished the flame. The room went dark as the only warmth she'd had was gone.

"No," Astrid said, but he wasn't listening. He was out the door and it slammed behind him.

The cell was black. She panicked. The cell suddenly seemed impossibly small. The tiny barred window on the door snapped open and Dagur's angry eyes appeared on the other side. The window gave less light than the torch but it was better than total darkness.

"I'll come back in case you change you mind," He said. His eyes vanished and his footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Astrid slunk back to the wall. Hiccup had to now she was missing by now. Her mother surely had missed her. Stormfly had to have noticed. Someone had to know that she wasn't where she should be. They should be looking for her.

X

The sun was going down and Hiccup reluctantly returned to Berk. Astrid hadn't been seen in almost four days. That wasn't a coincidence. Something was wrong. Her mother was frantic. Stormfly refused to eat. His gut was in a rage. He knew something horrible was happening.

Toothless warbled as they landed just outside the village on a sea stack. Hiccup gave one last look over the ocean. He didn't know what he was looking for. Anything. He didn't want to give up and go home for the day but he didn't see any other choice. He'd been up and flying since dawn. Besides, he couldn't find Astrid in the dark.

X

From an optimistic view, her situation could be worse. Her cell was draped in shadows but she could take herself to the bucket in the corner and since she had been eating and drinking her insides seemed to be working once again. Dagur came by twice a day to feed her and let drink from his mouth. She slept in spells. She was woken by the fierce and biting cold that numbed her skin and froze her bones.

If she was right, this was the third day since Dagur had sent word to Berk. It took three days by boat to arrive. Hiccup would know that Dagur had taken her. Berk would know. A counterattack and rescue mission could now be in progress. Any minute now dragons would descend on Berserker Island and Dagur's plans would go up in flames.

Toothless could be here in less than half a day, at top speed. Maybe less.

Right now, her biggest problem was the cold. She tried to keep her blood pumping but it only did so much. She paced, jumped, and did anything to move. But once she stopped moving the cold would surge back into her limbs. Everything hurt. Her bones felt frozen solid. It prevented her from sleeping. She would wake in a feverish shiver, shaking and half-numb.

She was pacing when he heard Dagur's boots coming down the corridor. She stopped and listened as they came closer. She sat down as the door was unlocked. Dagur, flanked by his two massive Berserkers, came inside. The Berserker that stood outside her door at most hours came in after him and removed the corner bucket. He would come back with it later. Astrid never asked where they dumped it. She didn't want to know.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Dagur smiled. "Hungry?"

She was. She took the bread he offered with trembling hands. Her fingers refused to cooperate so she tore at the bread with her teeth.

"Cold?" Dagur asked.

She chewed while she watched him. She was terribly cold and he knew it. He wanted her to beg but she wouldn't. He sat down in front of her and set the jug beside him. She didn't want to beg. But…desperation took control.

Dagur opened his arms and she slowly inched toward him. His hands were warm against her arms and back, like he'd been holding them over a fire. He lifted her onto his lap and fastened one warm arm around her. It only made the rest of her feel colder. Dagur watched her as she ate. His eyes were wide and awestruck like he'd never seen such a wonder. She ate the bread and drank the water from his mouth. She'd learned to ignore his wild and odd stares. His lips were warm and his tongue was like fire. It was disgusting, she knew, she hated herself for it. She hated Dagur for it.

She released her lips from his. He leaned back in and retook her mouth and pulled her closer. She wanted to pull away and smack him, to make him bleed, but right now she was dependent. He knew it, too. He thrived on that dependence. He pulled away from her and took another swig from the jug, and then another, until the jug was empty.

Dagur set the empty jug down on the ground and folded his other hand around her, adding to the heat of his body. His breath was hot against her temple.

"You're cold," Dagur whispered. "My bed is warm."

She wanted to snap his neck. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Hiccup would be on his way, soon. Berk would be on its way. A sky full of dragons would burn this place to the ground. They were moments away from blasting her free.

Dagur was looking down at her, expectantly.

Hesitate, ashamed, nervous, she nodded.

X


	8. Chapter 8

I came down with some writer's block and this update took longer than it should have. But that's how it goes.

I would also like to apologize for the large chunk of italics. I wanted to make the dream sequence clear.

X

Chapter 8

_Clouds swirled in blues, pinks, and yellows. Magnificent cloud castles rose up into the heavens. Toothless and Stormfly wound between turrets and towers. An island of clouds emerged and the dragons steered toward it. They landed on the soft ground, their feet bouncing softly, sunlight brightening the waters that cascaded down a fluffy cloud face._

_ The golden waters pooled in a spring. Astrid dismounted and bounced toward the spring. She smiled back at Hiccup as she jumped into the water. The golden splash swallowed her whole. Hiccup jumped from the saddle and searched for her at the water's side. She was just below the surface, smiling at him, and motioned for him to join her while she swam deeper and deeper. _

_ Hiccup jumped into the water after her and it swallowed him, too. Their hands clasped together as the bright waters danced all around them. Sunlight came from every direction. No way was up. No way was down. Every way was any way. _

_ Astrid's skin slid against his. He wanted to hold her as close as he could, to be the same as her, to be one, but she was never closer enough. He would pull her closer but she would drift farther away. Their hands remained entwined but she was pulling away from him. _

_ Strange hands emerged from behind Astrid and clasped around the soft skin of her neck. A panic lit her face. Her eyes widened and her mouth gasped out silent words. The water around her grew darker. Tendrils of ink seeped and absorbed the gold. Her eyes fluttered and faded into gray. _

_ He tried to call out to her but his voice was lost in the waters. Her hands went limp in his. The hands around her bruised neck eased and vanished. Astrid was left to float down into his arms. _

Hiccup snapped awake to a warbling and worried Toothless. He was leaning over the bedside and looking down at him, sniffing him with a hesitating curiosity, and nudged him gently.

"I'm alright, Bud." Hiccup put a hand to the dragon's nose and kindly pushed him away. He sat up, aware of a chilling layer of sweat on his skin and a quick heartbeat thumping in his chest.

Toothless ignored his hand and warbled into his shoulder.

"It's okay, Toothless. I think. It was…just a dream." Hiccup sighed. He paused at the edge of the bed to capture his breath. A dream hadn't had such a potent effect on him before. He placed a hand over his chest to calm his heart that still beat rapidly. He couldn't forget the look on Astrid's face as death took her. The lifelessness had been disturbingly real. He rubbed his eyes but it had been seared into his eyes.

Toothless warbled next to the window.

"Yeah," Hiccup nodded. He stood up. A flight was what he needed. He checked the saddle and climbed on. He gave the all-clear nudge and Toothless jumped through the window and raced the wind toward the clouds. The air rushed past and froze his face. His bare knuckles and nose were numb by the time Toothless leveled out on the other side of the clouds.

A dream. That's all it had been. It was stirred out of his worry for Astrid. She'd been gone nearly a week now and finally his father had admitted that something was wrong. They'd scoured the island by air and land. They'd searched the surrounding waters. But there was nothing. It was as if she'd simply vanished.

Her mother was in denial, stubborn as her daughter, that anything had happened. Surely, she'd argue, that Astrid had simply taken some time to explore. But Hiccup knew better than to think Astrid would go anywhere without Stormfly. But then…what had happened?

Hiccup and Toothless were still on the other side of the clouds when they heard the horn. Toothless dipped down below the cloud ceiling. The signal horn was waking the rest of the village and Hiccup could see the tiny dots moving about below. He saw his father emerge from the house. He could almost hear him demanding an explanation for disturbing him so early.

But before Hiccup could guess the cause, he saw it. It was a single ship floating toward Berk.

"There, Toothless!" Hiccup urged him to go in closer.

They circled downward until Hiccup could make out the Berserker insignia on the sail. They paused in midair however, but Hiccup regained his resolve and urged Toothless closer. He could only see one person on the ship and it was too small to be hiding more.

From Berk he could see his father and Gobber on their way. As a precaution, he waited until they were closer to land on the deck of the Berserker ship. At the sight of him the single Berserker shrieked and back into the mast. He raised his empty hands in defense.

"Don't shoot me!" he cried.

"Why? Do I have a reason to?" Hiccup asked.

The man relaxed, dropping his hands, but when Toothless growled he immediately thrust them back into the air. Toothless snorted, satisfied.

"Why are in Berk's waters?" Hiccup demanded. As he asked the question, his father and Gobber landed on the deck which shifted the boat dangerously.

"What's this?" Stoick demanded.

"It looks like an invasion to me, Stoick." Gobber nodded.

"No!" the Berserker shook his head wildly.

"Then what could a Berserker like you possibly be doing this close to Berk?" Stoick thundered.

"I-I bring a message from Dagur the Deranged for Hiccup of Berk."

Stoick took his eyes from the man and looked at his son. Hiccup shrugged.

"I don't know, Stoick. He looks like a shifty one." Gobber shook his head.

"What could Dagur want?" Hiccup asked.

"Who knows," Stoick stared down at the Berserker who shrank against the mast. "It might be a declaration of war. That would mean you are in enemy waters."

"No! No!" The Berserker shook his head. "I just have a message! That's it! I promise!"

"Oh, a Berserker's promise. That's solid, Stoick." Gobber said with a serious tone although he was smiling.

"Fine, what is it?" Hiccup asked.

"I don't know." The Berserker said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Stoick thundered.

"I mean, it's in my pocket. I don't know what it is."

"It's in your pocket?" Hiccup asked slowly. He glanced at his father who returned his uncertain stare. Neither were about to stick their hand into that Berserker's pocket.

After a moment of silence, Gobber sighed, "Fine, _I'll_ do it."

Gobber stepped off Grump and limped toward the Berserker. He mumbled something about sissies as he stuck his good hand into the man's pocket. He stopped, and shouted, which made Stoick reach for his axe, but Gobber started laughing before blood could be drawn.

"Funny, Gobber." Stoick said, irritated.

"I thought so," Gobber nodded. He withdrew his hand and held out a small wooden box.

"A box?" Stoick asked.

"Is the message in the box?" Hiccup asked.

The Berserker nodded.

"What do you think, Son?"

"I don't know." Hiccup shrugged. "It'd be rude to turn down a gift."

Stoick glared. This wasn't a time for jokes. "Dagur is up to something. I can smell it."

"That might be me." Gobber shrugged. "Skipped the bath this week."

Stoick groaned as Hiccup took the box from Gobber. The wood was rough and the edges were uneven and hastily nailed together. The top was a snug fit but he managed to pry it open. He dropped it onto the deck.

"What is it?" Stoick asked.

Hiccup held the box in shaky hands. He heard his father's question but he couldn't find the words to answer him.

"Hiccup?" Stoick asked.

At first it had looked like string. But it wasn't. It was hair. _Yellow hair _that looked like it had been ripped from the scalp. Tiny bits of translucent skin were still stuck to the ends. He couldn't feel his hands even thought he could see them holding onto the box. His stomach churned. Was his heart beating? It didn't feel like it. Everything inside of him was silent, raging in a flashed storm, plunged into the bottom of the ocean. The shadows of the depths were edging in and pulling over him.

"Hiccup?" Gobber asked, his voice a pitch higher.

"What is it, Son?"

Hiccup reached inside the box. His fingers clutched around the cold lock and the feeling was instantly familiar. He'd ran his fingers through these same hairs more times than he could count. Only then there'd been a girl attached to the ends. At the sight of the yellow lock the deck was enveloped in a sudden hush.

"Is that…?" Gobber asked, raising a brow.

"It can't be," Stoick narrowed his eyes at the hair.

"Astrid?" Hiccup mouthed, the sound barely more than a gasp.

"What's the meaning of this?" Stoick boomed to the Berserker.

"I-I have a message that goes with it," he whimpered.

"Well, damn it, out with it!" Stoick roared.

"Dagur says, 'If you want what was stolen then come alone to get it back. If you don't come alone you'll never see it again,'" The Berserker swallowed.

Hiccup tried to speak but a lump in his throat prevented words from forming.

"We'll take him back to Berk," Stoick thundered.

Toothless warbled and nosed Hiccup's hand that held the hair. He sniffed it and looked up at him with a worried nuzzle. Hiccup patted the dragon and climbed back onto the saddle.

"Hiccup!" Stoick roared. "You're grounded until I say so. I don't want you running off and getting into trouble.'

"But, Dad, it's Astrid!" Hiccup pointed seaward.

"I know that, Son. But you'll be walking right into Dagur's hands." Stoick shook his head. He climbed onto Skullcrusher. "We return to Berk, lock this buffoon up, and plot our move."

Hiccup relaxed his grip on the saddle. He fought the urge to ignore his father's order and race to the Berserker shores, plasma blasts blazing, and set everything on fire until he found Astrid.

"Hiccup?" Stoick threatened, waiting for his son to either listen or disobey.

"Fine," Hiccup groaned.

X

Dagur had escorted her into his personal chambers. On the way she complained about the grime that she felt. The next words had come from his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

"Use the bath in my room,"

She'd looked at him with indecision, her blue eyes studying him, and searching for his motives. What _were_ his motives? He wasn't sure himself. But he'd think of something. He would never be caught without a backup plan.

He took her through his chambers and into the separate bath house built into the rock. They'd dug a channel out of the rock for the water to flow into a pool. They'd dug a separate hole beneath the pool for firewood. The wood would burn and heat the water. He showed this ingenious design to the girl like a trader trying to sell it.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He told himself to throw her into the water and let her fend for herself. But his hands weren't listening. He lit the fire and stirred it. The water would be warm in no time. While they waited he rubbed his hands over her cold shoulders. Her skin was so perfect and smooth. He ran his fingers down the pale skin of her back. The warmth of his hands vanished into her cold skin.

He tested the water with a finger and when it was warm he motioned for her to get in. She was tentative and still a little bit angry. It was a beautiful combination. He reached for the fabric binding her breasts and wiggled it loose. He half expected her to swat his hand away but she hesitated. Once he had loosened them, she turned her back to him and unwound herself, and dropped the strip of fabric to the floor.

He stepped up to her back and slid his hands around her hips to her stomach. He ran his fingers up her torso to her now freed chest, clutching a breast in each hand, squeezing them and pushing her against him. The skin of her breasts was absurdly smooth. They were small but she wasn't a large woman to begin with.

The fire had warmed the rest of the room. He was used to the coolness of the outside and was beginning to sweat. He left her breasts and slid his hand to the fabric that folded around her rear and worked it loose. He pushed them down her legs. Gods, her skin was amazing.

He held out a hand, like some lunatic, and helped her into the water. He watched her dip below the water's surface. A drop of sweat ran down his face and he craved the cool air of the outside. For a crazy moment he though about joining her. But cursed himself for it, and he left.

He let the cool evening air blow passed his skin. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Dagur? Is something wrong?"

"What?" Dagur spun, eyes blazing on the Berserker who would dare suggest that something wasn't exactly how he'd planned it.

"N-Nothing, you just…looked…distracted."

"Give me your sword."

"What?"

"Give me your SWORD! Are you seriously that fucking stupid?" Dagur spat, hand outstretched.

"No, sir." The Berserker withdrew his razor sharp sword and handed it gingerly to Dagur. He took it, fingered the edge, and without changing his expression he swung it hard against the Berserker's neck. The flesh parted easily and the bone cracked. The helmeted head thumped to the rocky ground and the lifeless and still twitching body collapsed.

"You!" Dagur shouted, pointing the sword at the nearest Berserker, who jumped and saluted, a tremble in his arm, "Clean this mess up. I don't want blood stains on my doorstep. Take him down to the dungeons. I like blood stains there."

"Yes, sir!"

Dagur threw the bloodied sword at the beheaded Berserker. He hadn't latched out like that in a long while. He missed it. It was a fantastic stress reliever. However, what stress had he been relieving? He was Dagur, known for his calm countenance and laid back ruthlessness. He wasn't _stressed_. Then why was he so damn tense?

He reached the turret of his fort. The ocean sprayed against the ragged rocks below. Maybe he should have thrown that mouthy Berserker off the cliff side. He did enjoy watching them flail as they crashed onto the rocks. Some bounced, some didn't.

He knew what the problem was. He knew exactly what it was. It was the damn girl. She'd been poking at his brain since she's been here. He had been curious as to what Hiccup saw in her and what was so attractive about her. It was her golden hair. It was her ocean blue eyes and the ferocity behind them. It was her soft and flawless skin underneath his hands. It was her unforgettable voice. It was her lips. It was the curve of her hips.

"Damn it!" Dagur shouted, kicking a nearby weapons rack, sending a hammer to the floor. It almost smashed his boot but he was too quick. There was a Berserker standing post nearby but he was silent. He had seen what happened when they spoke their concerns.

X

It didn't take long for the entire village to hear about the Berserker and his mysterious message for Hiccup. The contents of that message were not revealed to the villages but rumors soon flew. The chief and his council had been locked away in his house for hours. Several curious and brave Vikings tried to sneak to the doors and windows but the dragons kept them away.

Whatever they were discussing took most of the afternoon and some of the evening. The sun was setting before they remerged from the chief's house looking exhausted and worn. They wouldn't talk of the deliberation. Stoick reassured the village that there was nothing to worry about.

Hiccup sat on the stairs and with the visitors gone Toothless came to sit behind him on the second floor. He warbled and nuzzled his shoulders.

"I know, Bud." Hiccup said. "I don't want to wait either."

"That's too bad, Son." Stoick said as he walked back inside the house.

"What about Astrid? Every minute we waste talking is another that she's with Dagur!" Hiccup refueled his argument. "We have to get her back as soon as possible."

"Calm down," Stoick warned. "This might be a trick. It might not even be hers."

"She's been missing for days, Dad."

"That doesn't mean it's Dagur."

"He sent us her hair. What else could it mean?"

"Son, calm down,"

"How am I supposed to be calm? Dagur's got Astrid and if I don't go he'll kill her." Hiccup shouted. His heart raced. "I knew there was something wrong. I _knew_ it."

"And rushing in there in a panic is exactly what Dagur wants you to do." Stoick thundered back. "So he can kill the both of you."

"I can't just stay here!"

"Hiccup, I understand that you're upset. I would be to." Stoick took a step toward the stairs. "But you can't play into Dagur's hand. Wait for the village to be ready. We'll ride together. With the dragons, Dagur won't stand a chance."

Hiccup sank back onto the stairs. "Fine."

Stoick's glare lingered before he left the house. Hiccup stood up and stalked to his room. He fell into a pace between the bed and the desk. He couldn't wait. He couldn't just sit while Thor-knows-what was happening to Astrid. He couldn't imagine what might have already happened.

The sun was almost below the ocean. Toothless was looking out of the window and sniffing the late evening air. He seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hiccup.

X


	9. Chapter 9

I'm really sorry this chapter was late. I try to update weekly but it turns out that running four stories at once was a bad idea on my part. It takes me a while to get out of the mindset of one story and into the mindset of another. Because I don't want to publish a chapter just to update, I want the best chapter that I can reel out, so I really need to be completely in it. But now that Cheating Death 2 is done I should have more time, right? I hope so. I don't want to have to take a hiatus on two of my stories to finish them one at a time.

PS - thanks for being super cool readers, guys. I appreciate it.

X

Chapter 9

Her legs were numb and walking was more of a chore than she'd expected. Her steps were uneven from still-shaking limbs. She couldn't flex her fingers or toes and every muscle in her body ached with a stiff pain. At least in the cell she had been able to curl into herself but while she walked every inch was exposed to the freezing air of the dungeon.

Astrid cursed herself as she let Dagur escort her out, presumable to his room. This was a horrible, horrible, horrible, _horrible, _horrible idea. But the cold had caused the demon of desperation to take over.

She could smell her unwashed skin and feel the grimy filth. Her hair stuck to her scalp in a nasty film and a dreadlock was forming at the base of her neck. She'd never gone this long without a bath before, or at least some kind of washing, and she could only imagine how revolting she must look. She might be a ruthless Viking warrior, unafraid of death, but she wasn't dirty.

"I'm so gross." Astrid sighed this complaint, more of a passing comment than a real complaint.

"Use the bath in my room,"

Astrid stumbled at his words. She was sure that she'd misheard him. Dagur had to be joking. She glanced at him but his face was unreadable. His mouth was slightly curved and his brows were soft. The malicious intent and curious cruelty that usually plagued his features were absent. To see him this, almost normal, was beyond strange and a bit unnerving. Dagur was anything but normal.

They passed through a stony corridor and she spied a large amount of armed Berserkers standing guard. She wouldn't be able to fight her way through with so many against her, especially in her state of weakness, for which she silently cursed herself.

She was Astrid Hofferson, the best warrior of her age, and she'd been made into some…vulnerable damsel waiting to be rescued, and it infuriated her. But that anger wasn't enough to bring about the strength to battle the weakness.

The Berserker compound was a maze of cavern-like tunnels. It looked as thought it had been carved out of the very rock. For all she knew, it had been. Dagur led her upward and into his personal chambers. It was protected on all sides by windowless walls made of the thick island rock. Thankfully, they didn't hesitate in his room.

Dagur pulled her into an attached bathhouse that looked more like a bath-room. It had been carved out as well and the corners of the room were softened. And, to Astrid's great relief, it was warmed by a fire.

"This, mostly me, mainly me," Dagur said as he walked toward a pool of water that lined a corner of the room, "Is my bath."

Astrid let him talk while the feeling gradually returned to her limbs. She could feel the warmth of her face but the rest of her was still numb.

"A channel lets in the water and the fire keeps it warm." Dagur flourished his hand to the fire pit underneath. "Quite the ingenious invention."

Astrid held in a smirk. Sometimes, it was like he was _trying_ to be like Hiccup.

Dagur paused and for a moment that dark glint reappeared in his eye along with a devilish twist in his grin. She held her breath, readying as best she could, to at least try and run, but as quickly as the glint had returned, it vanished. He bent down and stirred the burning logs while mumbling to himself.

Astrid tiptoed to the edge of the pool. A bath sounded like a forbidden luxury that was being dangled in front of her. Dagur returned to his feet and surprised her with warm hands on her cold shoulders. His hands were rough and the calluses on his fingers scratched against her skin. Astrid held her breath at the strange tenderness in which he handled her. Tenderness and Dagur weren't two things that she would ever combine.

He ran his fingers down her back and flattened his palms against her hips. She could feel the warmth soaking into her flesh. He removed a hand and reached for the water.

Gods, did he think he was going the bathe her? She'd rather stay dirty, thank you.

"Ah, just right," Dagur said as he stuck a finger into the water.

What should she do? She could try and hit him, aim for his throat, and then make a run for it. She could steal some Berserker armor and try to pass off as one of them. No, that wouldn't work. They all towered over her. She would stand out as if she were painted green. She could try and kill him, to wriggle his life away from him, and leave him in here. With these walls there was a chance that no one would hear him screaming. Then again, no one would hear her, either.

Dagur reached out to her chest and grasped hold of her breast bindings. She tightened her hands into fists as he fingered the knot and wiggled it loose. Like hell if he thought she was going to let him undress her again. She turned around, breaking his loose grip on the fabric, and began to unwind them herself. She wouldn't toss her dignity without a fight. The fabric fell to the floor and at the _plop_ she felt her heart sink. Gods, this wasn't good.

Dagur closed the small space between them and slid his hands along her hips and onto her stomach. His fingertips grazed her torso and he firmly clutched a breast in each hand. What was it about men and breasts? The first time Hiccup had seen them he wasn't able to keep his hands off. Dagur squeezed them and pushed her back against his chest. His breath hit her neck in hot puffs.

The room had gradually warmed and the feeling was returning to her fatigued limbs. Her breasts were freed from his grasp but his hands didn't leave her. He slid his hands down her sides and she swore, because she knew exactly what he was thinking. His fingers teased the fabric that folded around her rear. He worked it loose, touching her more than necessary, and pushed the material down her legs.

And just like that she was naked. Vulnerable. Weak. Dagur stepped to the bath's side and held out a hand. She didn't miss the lingering up-down glance his eyes gave her exposed front. She looked at his hand and at the pool. Was he serious? She could see the sweat shimmering on his forehead. Of course he'd be sweating in here. She was naked and cold but he was fully clothed and armored.

Against her better judgment, she set her hand in his and he helped her step into the pool like some play-on gentleman. Gods, the water felt beyond amazing. She settled in it, temporarily forgetting the precarious situation she was in. She dunked her head underneath the surface and relished the sensation of water surging between the hairs and heating her scalp. She reemerged on the other side just in time to see Dagur's retreating back through the door.

That was unexpected. He hadn't been his usual self since he'd taken her from the cell. Could this be some normal side to Dagur? She doubted it but she didn't know what else to think. She didn't want to think about it. She sank against the pool's stone side and let it dissolve the grime and the cold.

As she scrubbed her scalp she could feel the ghost of Dagur's touch on her skin. She'd half expected him to take her then and leave her bleeding on the bath house floor. But he hadn't. He'd been oddly, and quite uncharacteristically, gentle.

Now, she had just to wait for Berk to send the rescue team. Hiccup would know by now. He'd be on his way. Any minutes he and the other riders and half of Berk will be storming through the Berserker fortress. Stoick would want to hesitate and make a foolproof plan but Hiccup won't listen. Astrid hated that about him but she loved it. His protectiveness wasn't always warranted but it was sweet.

Astrid sighed as she wiggled her braid loose. She tried her best to deal with the dreadlock but it was proving to be stubborn. The water had done wonders. Her fingers flexed without pain or hindrance as she ran then through her slightly cleaner hair. She let her hair web out in the water before she braided it back.

Compared to the cell this bath was paradise. But she couldn't wait to return to Berk. It was home and always would be. Home was Hiccup, and Stormfly, and her mother, and her friends. Stormfly was probably beside herself. She'd never been left alone this long before.

Astrid's thought were interrupted by the opening of the door. She jumped as it slammed back. Dagur had returned and carried what looked like towels. He threw them onto the floor.

"Get out, we're eating." Dagur said shortly in a flat tone. His face was blank and his hands were clenched into fists. He vanished back into the other room and she heard an unintelligible yell and the smacking of flesh on rock.

So much for gentle Dagur. Astrid leaned over the side and looked down at the towels. She stood up in the water, with eyes on the door, and reached down for one. She dried her hair and her upper body before stepping out on to the stone floor.

"What are you doing?" Dagur called from the other room, impatient and bored.

Astrid quickly dried the rest of her and was reaching down for her discarded bindings when Dagur burst through the door. His face was twisted with irritation.

"Don't put those on." he said flatly.

Astrid wrapped herself in a dry towel and under his gaze she walked into the next room. Dagur let the door slam.

It was his bedroom. They'd passed through it before but she hadn't given it much of a look. She could see the poorly drawn pictures of what she assumed was a Night Fury with a dangerous dagger thrust into the paper. To puncture not only the paper dragon but also the stone wall behind it would have require a tremendous amount of force.

"You know, if Hiccup _really_ cared he would have been here by now." Dagur said casually. He sat at a small wooden table on which were two plates and two mugs.

"He does care." Astrid said. She felt her stomach plead at the sight.

"Sit, eat," Dagur motioned her toward the table.

Cautiously, she sat. Her mouth watered and her hands twitched. He sat across from her and when he began to eat, she did too. It was a tasteless and simple meal but she couldn't stop eating. When her plate was clean Dagur still had half of his to go. She drained the mead, thankful she wasn't drinking it in gulps from his mouth, and set it down on the table with a relieved sigh.

Smirking, he put his half-eaten bread onto her plate. She looked down at it. What motive is behind his actions? This going-in-between of his kindness and cruelty was leaving Astrid unsure of what to expect. He took a drink from his mug and she quickly ate the bread.

"I was sure that he'd come straight away," Dagur sighed. There was something like disappointment on his face. He removed his helmet and set it on the table beside his plate. "I guess I was wrong about you and him."

Astrid slowed her chewing. Dagur wasn't looking at her. His eyes were watching the mead in the mug swirl with the gentle undulating of his wrist.

"I was sure he'd throw everything away." Dagur said into the mead. "I've never understood why men would throw their lives away for some woman."

Astrid chewed the bread while he talked to his drink. Hiccup wouldn't leave her here if he could help if. Stoick would have to lock him up before he'd just sit around and wait. He was on his way here, speeding as fast as Toothless could fly, knuckles white on the saddle.

"I was so sure…I knew exactly that Hiccup would do if his whore was taken. He'd rush out here, frantic, in a panic, fearful and in dismay, willing to do anything to get her back, even give up his precious dragon." Dagur whined.

He sighed and let his forehead fall onto the table. He groaned into the wood and lifted his sorrowful expression toward the ceiling.

"Berk has probably decided that you're not worth it." Dagur let his eyes fall down to her. His head tilted back down and he leaned onto his elbow. "Stoick was always the cautious one. One for the many, I suppose. I understand. I mean, I'd make the same choice. Why risk the lives of hundreds for one lousy bitch?"

"He won't leave me." Astrid spat.

Dagur's lips twisted upward. Damn it, Astrid. That's what he wanted. He'd laid a trap and she's walked right into it.

"Are you sure?" Dagur whispered, a deadly malice dripping off his tongue. "Then where is he? He's had _plenty_ of time to fly here. Ample time, really, more than enough to have flown here and flown back to Berk. Maybe twice."

Astrid was gritting her teeth. Her nails were digging into her palms.

"Even if there was bad weather, both ways, he's had time. Face it, he's not coming for you." Dagur smiled smugly, like he'd already won. Of course, she was sitting across from him, in his bedroom, wearing a towel.

She bit her lip to prevent herself from engaging in his nonsense talk. He wanted her to get mad. He wanted her to be angry at him. But she wouldn't partake. It was taking the better part of her willpower to keep her mouth shut.

"I thought Hiccup had more character than that," Dagur sighed.

"Hiccup is twice the man you'll ever be," Astrid spat. "The entire tribe loves him and you can't stand it. He has everything that you want, admiration, power, skill, and it drives you mad. You don't _hate_ him. You're _jealous_."

She immediately regretted her decision.

Dagur was on his feet and the table was cleared with a deft swish of his arm. The plates clattered and the mead darkened the stone floor as the mug bounced and rolled. His hands gripped her shoulders and lifted her from the chair. Her feet drug the floor as he threw her with an angry grunt. She was prepared to collide with the floor but instead felt the fur-lined bed underneath her. The towel had come loose and in desperation she clutched at it. She knees were caught up in material as Dagur stomped to the edge of the bed.

"Shut up," Dagur yelled, his anger echoing.

He pushed her down and gripped the towel but she held her grip firmly. No. No. No. No.

"Hiccup is nothing!" Dagur roared. "He is weak! Without his fucking Night Fury he wouldn't stand a chance! He doesn't deserve it! He doesn't fucking deserve it!"

Try as she might, he was stronger than her. He ripped the towel from her grip and yanked it from underneath her. The cold air met her bare skin and again she was afraid. Dagur pushed her down and used his superior strength to keep her there. He crawled onto the bed and straddled her. He used his legs to pin hers down and unbuckled his belt.

_Shit_. Panic set in and it was burning through her ribcage. She balled her fists and threw them at him, one after another, but it was doing little harm. He was even laughing at her. He loosened his pants enough to give his manhood room to breath.

"Stop," Astrid tried to plead.

He came crashing down on top of her. She tried to push against him but he grabbed of wrists and wrenched them above her head. He smashed his mouth onto hers. He forcefully worked his hips between hers, bruising her bare legs with his belt and armor, and poked her thigh with the heat of his erection.

She couldn't push him off. She had nothing to bargain with. She was alone and on her own. Was this her fate, then? Kidnapped and raped for the sake of revenge? As an object, a means to achieve a goal, a tool? She finagled her hips away from him in a last desperate attempt but she knew it would do little good.

That was it then. She was left with two options. She would either be raped or give it willing. Either way she was having sex, it seemed. She wanted to fight him until one of them was dead. She never wanted to give in, to cave, but she didn't want to give him the sadistic satisfaction that he had somehow conquered her. If she gave it willingly them there was nothing to be stolen, nothing to be conquered. It was the last bit of her dignity to give it so that he could not steal it.

Thor strike her dead and save her from this humiliation. She gripped the furs underneath her as she felt him between her legs. _Gods_, _no_, she pleaded. He wore a wild expression of wide eyes and a too-wide smile that set her panic anew with every glance or snicker.

_What was that? _She thought she'd head something but it had been muffled by the stone. Dagur gave no notion that he'd heard anything.

She felt him press into her and she cursed as an audible whimper escaped her mouth. He pushed himself inside of her, his grip tightening painfully on her wrists, and a pleasured guttural moan left his throat. He began with withdraw, as slowly as he'd entered, preparing for the next thrust, when the air was penetrated by the low boom of a horn. Dagur grunted in anger as he removed himself from her. His wild bliss dissolved into a hot rage.

"What the fuck is that?" Dagur shouted at the room. He stood up and the horn continued to blare. He tucked himself back into his pants and quickly buckled his belt.

Astrid pulled a fur blanket over herself just as the door to the chamber bust open.

"Dagur!" the interrupting Berserker shouted, panic on his voice.

"What?" Dagur was enraged. "What is so important that you have to interrupt?"

"Dragon riders to the east,"

"Shoot them down!" Dagur ran to the table and slammed his helmet onto this head. He began to shout orders before he even left the room, cursing at his men for not being fast enough.

Dagur was seething and Astrid didn't understand. Wasn't this exactly what he'd wanted? She pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled her legs up underneath her. Her chest was swelling at the news. Dagur had been completely wrong about Hiccup. She knew that he'd never leave her.

Astrid took a moment to breath. Had he honesty left her alone in a room that she could easily escape from? It was either a trick or stupidity on Dagur's part. She pushed herself from the bed and quickly searched for something better to wear than a fur blanket. From a chest in the corner she pulled out a tunic that fell to the middle of her thigh.

There came a bang and a rumble from outside. An explosion, surely, from an army of dragons raining fire and poison spikes. She pulled on a pair of spare boots that were several sizes to big. No, they were too clunky to work. She kicked them off. Barefoot it was then.

Astrid followed the path that she'd seen Dagur take. The rooms were all empty and she assumed that all the Berserkers had gone outside. The rock was rumbling as explosions shook the fortress. She went toward them and relished when she saw bits of the inky sky. She found her way out onto a turret of sorts where Berserkers were shooting crossbows up at sky.

Warning fires were being lit and raised to the sky. Parts of the fort had been blasted and bits were still burning. The warning signals reflected of the smoke and low hanging clouds. The entire world looked as though it were on fire. She could see Dagur, a little ways from her, shouting and swearing at his men. Truthfully it reminded her of the old days when dragons attacked.

She saw the dragon riders. A Hideous Zippleback went blasting through a flying net. A Gronkle devoured a thrown boulder. A Monstrous Nightmare was throwing its flame on the fortress walls which made the Berserkers scramble. A catapult was loaded and it's cargo was set aflame. A sword was raised to let the flaming ball hurtle through the air and that's when Astrid heard it, the high-pitched whistle that came only moments before the deadly strike.

Her eyes searched the sky. The whistle grew louder and louder and finally she saw the shadow. Black wings blocked out the firelight as the bright blue bolt crashed into the catapult and sent the splinters flying. The flaming load collided with the ground and exploded on impact.

Astrid couldn't help but laugh. They may have been late on their timing but they could make one hell of an entrance. She watched the battle with glee.

"NIGHT FURY!" Dagur howled over the chaos.

And in an instant it all changed. A net was deflected by the twins but a second was shot on a slightly altered course and was not. Barf and Belch fell to the ground in a warbling heap. In their defense, Snotlout came shooting toward them, but a series of well-timed catapults overpowered him, and he and Hookfang were knocked out of the sky.

"No," Astrid hissed as she watched a net bring Fishlegs and Meatlug down. She shook her head in disbelief.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to come in, cause a commotion, burn the island down, and take Astrid home without harming themselves.

She searched the sky for Hiccup and Toothless. She caught them shadowing through the low clouds. Hiccup would think of something. He would have a way to get everyone out. Toothless came in closer and Astrid could see the net-catapult being loaded and aimed, a second on right behind it, and the Berserkers were waiting.

Toothless couldn't see them. He was flying straight into them.

"Hiccup!" Astrid screamed, stretching her throat painfully, and running toward the edge of the turret.

Toothless paused in the air as the catapults were fired. Both nets flew passed and a well aimed plasma blast destroyed both of them and sent Berserkers scattering out of the way.

"No!" Dagur's ragged scream echoed through the fort.

Astrid glanced toward him and her glee was quickly dismembered. Dagur's wild rage returned it was being aimed at her. His plan had been playing out and she had just ruined it. He was running toward her with his raw fury swelling her panic. She looked back toward the sky.

"Hiccup!" Astrid called out for him. She _needed_ him to save her. She's play the damsel as long as he could get her out of her distress.

Toothless was looking at her but wavering in the air as a flurry of arrows flew by him. Astrid ran farther away from Dagur. She looked along the edge of the fort. She could jump and Hiccup could dive and catch her. She might be easier to get to that way.

"Hic-"

A rough hand reached from behind her and clamped over her mouth.

"…bitch," Dagur seethed in her ear. "I had him! I HAD HIM!"

Dagur pulled her from the turret's edge and yanked her along the fort's floor and through a door that he kicked closed behind them. He threw her to the floor and before she had time to recover she felt the impact of his boot into her stomach.

"I HAD HIM!" Dagur thundered, this tone teeming with wild rage and cold fury that chilled her to the bones. "I should have chained you up like I wanted, left you to rot. I'll toss you in the catacombs where he'll never find you, _Hiccup_ won't save you there. No one will."

X

Depending on how I feel when I'm writing the next chapter it might be the last, regardless of length.


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